Ill Words
by moon-dragon3
Summary: Snape finally goes too far in hurting Harry. Harry develops serious problems - FINISHED - Please read and review!
1. The Beginning of it All

Snape swirled around the class, peering into some cauldrons and deciding others would be best left untouched. His Dark Mark was itching and burning alternately which happened to make him even nastier than usual, though few students could have told the difference.  
  
"Well well, Longbottom. It would seem you have finally succeeded. . ."  
  
Neville's eyes lit up in amazed pleasure, which faded as Snape continued with a sneer,  
  
". . .In making the potion which is the complete opposite of the one you should have made!"  
  
He flinched under Snape's wrathful tone, and Potter stepped forward, with what he probably thought was a placating expression on his face. In fact he could as well have tweaked Snape's nose, pinched his cheek and ruffled his hair in terms of how it calmed Snape.  
  
A vein popped in the man's cheek. For Merlin's sake, surely they knew by now that he wouldn't dare kill a pupil while Dumbledore was Headmaster? He shot a force two glare at Potter and had the brief satisfaction of the boy's face tightening in ill-concealed fear. Then he turned his attention back to Longbottom.  
  
"What would your parents think, Longbottom? Do you ever sit and consider how they must be watch. . ."  
  
BANG!  
  
Snape jerked out of the way just in time to see a flash of red light fly past him and hit the wall with a shower of sparks. Had it been a Slytherin who had fired the spell he would have awarded points for such a good curse and aim. However his eyes slowly swivelled to the only person who would have - could have, though he hated to admit it - cast that charm.  
  
Potter.  
  
He barely heard Longbottom run out of the classroom with a stifled sob, barely noticed Malfoy snickering with his two goons. He fixed Potter with a glare that could make Dumbledore snatch the hand offering lemon drops back as though it had been burnt. And Potter simply didn't respond. He stared back at Snape, fire burning in those green eyes that said quite clearly, 'You've gone too far this time'.  
  
Had Longbottom not told anyone except Potter what had happened to his parents? Nobody except Potter seemed to have any idea, they simply looked bored (Slytherins) or gormless (Gryffindors). Snape had been there at the destruction of Frank and Susan Longbottom. There had been no love lost between them at school, but when Snape had turned from Voldemort they had been forced to work civilly together. Snape had been at Voldemort's side while he tortured the Longbottoms, but a single twitch would have taken his life as well as theirs. Dumbledore and the Ministry hadn't been quick enough, and their eyes had glazed. But they had remained silent and strong right up until their world's had gone black, and for that Snape admired them as much as anyone.  
  
So how the hell had they managed to produce such a useless child as Neville Longbottom? It was improbable to the point of impossible according to the family bloodlines. Stubborn bloody Ravenclaws, always trying to contradict fact.  
  
However Snape was forced to jerk himself back to reality. Potter was still standing with his wand out, jaw set.  
  
"That was unnecessary, professor Snape. You know. . .you know!"  
  
"Incapable of forming sentences, Potter?" Snape smirked "I'll get you expelled for sure now Potter. Hexing a professor in front of a class of students. Stupid, even for Gryffindor."  
  
However Potter didn't look remotely upset.  
  
"Well, Dumbledore will want to hear the entire story, won't he Professor? Right from the provocation?"  
  
Snape swore inwardly. The bloody cursed boy was right. Dumbledore would have his head for this, anyway. So. . .he might as well do what he had been longing to for ages. Poison Potter.  
  
With a smirk he stepped closer to Potter and plucked the wand out of his nerveless fingers.  
  
"Very well, Potter, since you seem so intent on getting yourself killed prematurely - get BACK you stupid girl - who am I to stand in your way?"  
  
He quickly cast a swallowing charm on Harry and tipped the vial down his throat, hearing the sniggers of his Slytherins and the gasps and cries of the Gryffindors with a perverse pleasure. He grabbed Potter's shoulders as the boy shuddered at the foul taste of the potion and then released him with a nasty smile. The boy sank into his chair, his eyes fogging over, and Snape absently locked the doors with a wave of his wand as Weasley tried to run for help. Of course, this wouldn't poison Potter. After all, he was the only one who would be powerful enough to defeat Voldemort; and Fudge would be so annoying if his favourite puppet was bumped off. No, as he had said, this potion was the opposite of the Erised potion, which showed people their deepest desires. This showed their deepest fears. . .  
  
With a hissing and a cold sound a grey fog began to gather above Potter's head. Dark shapes began to form in the mist, becoming clearer. Like a faulty TV set they crackled and hissed, getting progressively louder until they seemed like real people.  
  
There was a fat man and boy, and a bony woman who resembled a horse so strongly it made Snape shudder. They were shouting at him, random words; "Layabout! Waste of space. . .useless. . .fool. . .don't you dare. . .wait till I tell your Uncle. . .hiding of your life. . .mongrel. . ."  
  
Snape's mouth again curled up into a sadistic sneer and he uncast the potion. Potter slumped bonelessly to the floor, his eyes half shut and his face pale. Rolling his eyes, Snape enervated him and pushed him none too gently towards the desk. The boy stumbled forward, his elbow hitting the table with a crack. Snape suddenly noticed Potter was shaking with a slight thrill of fear. He quickly dismissed the rest of the class and grasped Potter's shoulders roughly. The boys head lolled aimlessly and he was mumbling incoherently. Finally deciding that Muggle techniques were both easier and more satisfying, Snape slapped the boy hard around the face. Harry opened his eyes and glared at Snape who snarled back.  
  
"Well well. . .the famous boy of Gryffindor doesn't give a damn about his friends being killed by Voldemort. He's just scared of his relations."  
  
Harry gritted his teeth and looked Snape in the eye.  
  
"They are not my family."  
  
Snape smirked.  
  
"I can see them in you quite clearly - especially the boy"  
  
Harry flinched visibly. How could that bastard know his fear? No, he couldn't! He couldn't understand the paranoia Harry had gained of looking like Dudley. Which must mean. . .that Harry really did look like Dudley. He really was growing fat.  
  
Silently Harry turned and walked out of the room.  
  
********************************  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You'll miss dinner"  
  
His stomach rumbled and he angrily clamped a hand over it.  
  
"Not hungry."  
  
Ron's freckled face peered in through the curtains.  
  
"Shall I bring up something?"  
  
"No Ron, I'm not tired I'm hungry. . .I mean, I'm not hungry, I'm tired, so I'm just going to bed now ok?"  
  
Ron nodded and left, as Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It was chipped. He considered counting the cracks but decided that would be very boring. His stomach felt like it had been filled with acid; it gurgled and rumbled like a drain and made his head spin. But. . .he was getting like Dudley. . .flabby and fat, the thought just made him want to retch. He turned over onto his other side and heard footsteps coming up the stairs and enter the dormitory. It was Seamus and Dean. Harry tried not to listen to their conversation but couldn't help it. They were saying what Snape had said; that he was selfish for just being afraid of his relatives. But they didn't know. . .they didn't know any of it. . .(AN yes, another abused Harry fic)  
  
***************************************  
  
In Hogwarts, rumours spread quickly and Harry was the most talked about boy in the school. So, naturally, by the next morning everyone had heard about his deepest fear. He was halfway down to breakfast the next morning when Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle blocked his path. Harry jumped back and looked up.  
  
"Everyone in the school knows what a wimp you are now, Potter" sneered Draco. "Honestly, I'm surprised people still have faith in you to save the wizarding world." Harry flushed red, and went to walk past when, at a nod from Malfoy, Goyle shot out an arm. Harry flinched, hands coming up over his closed eyes looking like a startled deer. Malfoy noticed he was shaking and smiled evilly.  
  
"Scared, Potter?"  
  
Harry was silent, refusing to give Malfoy the satisfaction of having scared him. He was unable to stop himself flinch again as the meaty fist collided with the side of his face. However there was no redness. Draco waved Crabbe and Goyle on to breakfast and grasped Harry's chin roughly, so they were eye to eye. He spat out a revealing charm and began to laugh as he saw the battered state of Harry's face.  
  
"Nice holiday, Potter? Oh my, what wouldn't the Prophet give for this. . ."  
  
Chuckling nastily he continued down the corridor leaving Harry trembling.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Ok, please review, and also, I'm desperately trying to find that HP story where Harry tries to jump off the astronomy tower and is sent to live with Snape. It's 15 chapters long and has an alternative ending (one he lives, one he dies) but I can't find it on ff.net. Does anyone know where it is?? 


	2. A Startling Discovery

First off, thanks to the five people who found the link I wanted. If anyone else wants it, here you are: http://www.vigilantgriffin.net/snape/fiction/acciosnape- somethingtolivefor.html  
  
*** DREAM ***  
  
"Boy!" bellowed Vernon, his moustache bristling and his face purple. Harry swallowed and shrank back into the shadows. But it never worked. The shadows were never big enough. "BOY!" Moving silently, Harry tried to find a way past the giant bulk of his uncle, only to walk straight into a mirror with a thud. He reeled back, hearing the footsteps of his uncle approaching, and suddenly realised with a shock that the grotesquely overweight figure in the mirror was himself.  
  
With a horrified gasp, he tried to flee, but found his feet glued to the ground. The boy was repulsive; a bit fatter than Dudley, with watery green eyes squinting out of a monstrously flabby face. The lips were like salami, round and thick and red; the nose protruding from the visage like a baguette, long and fat. With a shudder of disgust, Harry spun around and backed into his uncle's vast form.  
  
"So, boy, thought you could run, did you?"  
  
He heard the sound of his uncle's hand hitting him around the face and felt the waves of pain a few seconds later, just as he fell to the floor and a hefty kick was dealt to his ribs. He ground his teeth together, trying not to cry out as the blows rained down on him.  
  
*** END DREAM ***  
  
He woke up, sweating and shaking. In the next bed Ron rolled over sleepily and looked at him out of sleep-fogged eyes.  
  
"You ok, Harry?"  
  
"Yeah I'm fine. Just a nightmare. . ."  
  
"Bloody Voldemort" mumbled Ron, rolling back over, but not before Harry heard him mutter softly, "The sooner you kill him, the better."  
  
He lay, again, staring at the ceiling. This time he did count the cracks, trying not to think about what Ron had said. It was Harry's job to kill Voldemort; more, it was his life. But how? How was he supposed to kill Voldemort? He knew no dark magic, and somehow he didn't think a tickling charm was going to bump of the greatest wizard of all time, perhaps with the exception of Dumbledore. He amused himself for a few moments with thoughts of Voldemort's grotesque face writhing into a snakelike smile which engorged itself into a fully blown laugh before the dark lord exploded in a plume of smoke.  
  
However the humorous image was quickly disrupted by the rumbling of Harry's stomach. Instinctively he curled an arm across himself and pulled the blankets further over his shoulders. How long had it been now? Not very long; only since lunchtime the previous day.  
  
Dean grumbled in his sleep and fell silent; Neville's soft snores punctuated the deep breathing of everyone else. Knowing he wouldn't get any more sleep that night, Harry quietly got up and pulled on his dressing gown, throwing his invisibility cloak over the top. He padded down the cold stone stairs and into the common room, glancing momentarily at the glowing embers from the previous night's fire.  
  
When it came down to it, he really was just free labour. He was designated to kill Voldemort; if he failed then he would die knowing that his life had been a failure. And if he won? Well, he wouldn't have a life. After all, once the scar and the stigma were taken away, what were you left with? A wizard, but not a terribly powerful one. There would be nothing to mark him apart from, say, Colin Creevey.  
  
Harry barely noticed that his feet were leading him away from the common room. The Fat Lady grumbled sleepily at his back as she swung shut behind him. The floor was cold and dirty and he had no shoes, but he didn't really care. Unbidden, the images of Dudley and Vernon flashed in his mind. What would it feel like to have family? It must be like having a different part of your brain opened up, he supposed. A part of your brain that would make you relax into a hug rather than scrambling away from the contact; a part of your brain that would give you the capacity to trust unconditionally. So maybe for Harry's purpose this part of the brain was best left untouched. After all, the less you trusted anyone in these times, the better.  
  
Though he was meant to be the saviour of Wizard-kind, he felt remarkably useless. In the past weeks there had been increasing amounts of attacks on muggles. He saw all the gruesome pictures in his dreams, but was always to late to reach Dumbledore. If Fudge would just accept Voldemort's return then so many innocent lives could be saved. And of course, nobody would tell him it was his fault that these people had died, but he saw it in their faces every time there was a new attack. Snape especially took no measures to hide his disgust at Harry's inability to be in the right place at the right time. Even though Harry had saved the bastard's life. . .  
  
*** Flashback ***  
  
He awoke, as normal, sweating and shivering, his throat hoarse from screaming. Ron was shaking him, and all the boys were watching in stupefied horror. Suddenly remembering his dream, Harry shot out of bed and looked towards the window. Sure enough, in the morning mist a dark cloaked figure could be seen swiftly making its way towards the Forbidden Forest. Without thinking, he grabbed his Firebolt and leaped out of the window, hearing shrill cries of amazement and horror behind him. He swooped down to Snape's level as quickly and silently as he could, before casting a full body bind on the professor, who fell like a board to the frosty ground. Harry hastily dismounted and turned Snape over. The black eyes glittered ferociously at him, and Harry briefly wondered if the head of Slytherin had any basilisk blood in him. He decided now wasn't the best time to ask, and crouched next to Snape.  
  
"Sir, you have to listen to me. I just had a dream; a premonition. Voldemort knows you are a spy. He's summoned you to torture and probably kill you! You can't go in!"  
  
Snape said nothing as his lips were sealed with the spell. Maybe Harry had been a little over-enthusiastic.  
  
"Sir, if you will come to Dumbledore with me then please at least look friendly before I take off the spell. . ."  
  
The part of Snape's face that was mobile twisted. Whether it was a friendly look or a snarl, Harry couldn't tell. Deciding it was better to be safe (well, as safe as you could be having just immobilised Snape) he levitated Snape and set off inside, aware of the Gryffindor boys staring at him out of the window.  
  
When he reached Dumbledore's office, he politely asked the Gargoyle to ask Dumbledore to let him in, which received a muffled snort from Snape. However the gargoyle politely obeyed and disappeared momentarily. The wall then slid aside, allowing Snape and Harry in. Once he had explained what had happened, Dumbledore awarded 20 points to Gryffindor and told Harry to go back to bed. The last thing Harry saw was Dumbledore forcing a calming potion down Snape's throat. Harry privately thought that if the Headmaster was going to release Snape from the body bind he was even barmier than most people thought.  
  
Life continued as normal after that. The Gryffindors couldn't understand why Harry hadn't let Snape get killed and Snape was as nasty as usual to Harry.  
  
*** End Flashback ***  
  
Lost in his own thoughts, Harry walked all the way to the library before he realised how cold he was. He was considering walking back to the Common Room but then realised he was in the perfect place to cast a heating charm. He wandered over to a book of charms for a simple life, and flicked through. Stirring charms. . .might be useful for potions. . .feather- weight. . .already knew that one. . .heating, yes, that was what he wanted. He pulled out his wand and waved it at his feet, muttering the incantation. It worked so strongly that he almost burned his feet! He stared down and suddenly realised that the wand was in his left hand when he had always used his right previously. Deciding to experiment, he summoned a very heavy tome from a top shelf with his wand in the right hand. It wavered and wobbled, and collapsed on top of Harry, knocking the wind out of him. Heart racing, he held the wand in his left hand and suddenly felt it thrum beneath his fingers, vibrating with power in his palm. It had never felt like this before. . .  
  
"Accio" he muttered. Another book shot towards him with the force of a small rocket and he hastily ducked to avoid it. Deciding to try something else, he aimed his wand at a student's parchment which had been left from the night before, and without saying an incantation tried to transfigure it into a chicken (wand in his left hand). There was a startled squawk and he hastily waved his wand at it to make it fall silent. Only then, staring at a perfect speckled hen with gorgeous liquid brown eyes, did he realise what was so odd - other than using his wand with the other hand. He hadn't spoken any words!  
  
***********************************************  
  
"Ron! Ron! Wake up! I just found the most amazing thing!"  
  
"Whu. . .I. . .bloody hell Harry. . .ugh. . ."  
  
It took a few moments to get Ron to wake up. When he finally he did he looked dishevelled and rather pissed off. However his expression soon changed when Harry explained.  
  
"Seriously. . .it multiplies my magic by ten-fold. Go on, try it!"  
  
Slightly apprehensive, Ron switched his wand over to his other hand, and performed a summoning charm. Nothing happened. Harry urged him to try again; again there was no magic. When Ron moved his wand back to his normal hand, the spell worked normally. The red-head gaped at his friend.  
  
"Blimey, Harry" he breathed. "How many years at this school, and they never noticed you held your wand in the wrong hand!"  
  
Harry looked at Ron oddly.  
  
"What do you mean, Ron? I'm right handed!"  
  
"Yeah, but. . .well, they always said. . ." he trailed off, looking unsure, but a glance at Harry's murderous face told him he'd better continue.  
  
"Well, they always said you should have been really great at magic. I mean. . .you can do a patronus. . .but people have said that your father was as powerful as Snape at school. . .that's why they hated each other so much. And. . .well, you were good. . .but you never really showed any tremendous power and people started to doubt whether you really could defeat Voldemort. . ." Ron was cut off short as Harry stood furiously.  
  
"It's all there is, isn't it, Ron. All there is to my whole fucking existence is killing Voldemort. Why? Why the bloody hell does it have to be me?"  
  
He was aware of how shrill his voice sounded, but he didn't care. Ron looked nonplussed.  
  
"Harry, you're famous. What more could you want?"  
  
The rage simmered and bubbled inside him, until he finally managed to control it, and hissed through gritted teeth.  
  
"What more could I want? How can you ask that, Ron? I want to have a family. I want to be allowed out without fear of being killed. I want to be able to have friends without fear that they will be the first to die. I want a family. I want to be Harry; just Harry. That's all I want!"  
  
And with that, he turned and ran out of the dormitory, not knowing where he was going, and not caring. 


	3. Blackmail

Some time later he returned and lay back on his bed, hearing Ron's satisfied snoring beside him. Again his stomach rumbled; he was seriously considering casting a silencing charm on it. It was an odd tableau. People would expect others in the dormitory to be awake, unable or unwilling to sleep. The boy-who-lived, they would all say, should be sleeping peacefully, dreaming of his happy life.  
  
They probably wouldn't like the picture of Harry sprawled out on his bed looking sadly at his feet in their threadbare grey socks. 'Like elephant skin' said his mind, and he suddenly realised that they did.  
  
"The elephant man" he said aloud, with a snort. "Giant fat feet with baggy skin. How fetching. . ."  
  
Dragging himself to his feet and blinking his eyes against the sudden dizziness which overpowered him he padded quietly to the bathroom and removed his pajama top. His ribs protruded sharply from thin white skin, but all he saw was fat. Blubber; he saw his grossly oversized head stuck onto Dudley's body. Suddenly, to his eyes, his skin looked horrible. . .clammy, and monotone. He felt like he was trapped inside this skin; like it was overtaking him. Not even thinking, he scratched his nails down his arms, relishing the pain that it caused. The figure in the mirror grinned lopsidedly at him, and ran it's meaty fingers over the scratches. Harry's nails were long, and soon blood was running from the scratched in places. The pain felt good on his bloated skin.  
  
Eventually he staggered back to his bed and slept as well as he could remember having done.  
  
********************************************  
  
The next morning they had double potions next. Ron said nothing to Harry, obviously seeing his non-appearance at breakfast as a personal insult. Hermione tried to make some sort of conversation but Ron didn't want to talk, and Harry felt too ill to participate. His arms throbbed and ached, and his inner voice was chastising him every time he felt a twinge of pain. He didn't know why he'd done it. Of all the stupid, unbalanced things to do. . .if anyone found out it would be so embarrassing. . .his thoughts were interrupted by Snape's arrival.  
  
"Alright, cauldrons out, no notes, the recipe is on p254, now get on with it!"  
  
He strode around the classroom glaring at the Gryffindors and giving house- points to the Slytherins. Harry was just about to add the final ingredient when Draco nudged him hard, sending the entire pot of Besselwood powder into the cauldron. It simmered and hissed, before solidifying into a thick black mass at the bottom of Harry's cauldron. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed like loons but Draco's smirk wasn't at the trouble the boy would be in with Snape. It was at the way he was holding his arm.  
  
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Snape wrinkled his nose.  
  
"Longbottom! What have you done this time?" he asked, in a tone laced with resignation and annoyance. However Neville's potion wasn't wrong (yet). Snape looked around the classroom, his eyes resting on a smirking Malfoy. Smirking Malfoys were never good. Snape didn't particularly like the blond boy - in fact he couldn't stand him - but he had appearances to keep up. And if Draco was smirking, it was probably something to do with that wretched Potter boy.  
  
The classroom was deadly silent as Snape stalked over to Harry's cauldron and looked inside for a long moment before fixing Harry with a sneer.  
  
"I did not think even you, Potter, were inept enough to add a bottle instead of a teaspoon of Besselwood. You never cease to amaze me."  
  
"Sorry, sir" said Harry, in a monotone. Had he not been the master of the blank expression Snape might have keeled over in a dead faint. As it was, he was just rendered speechless for a few moments, which he filled with a dark scowl. The boy did actually look contrite - there was no mockery on his face. How disturbing. . .  
  
Snape swept away, taking 20 points from Gryffindor but feeling oddly unsatisfied.  
  
**********************************  
  
Harry turned the corner of the dungeons, having been late out cleaning his cauldron, to find himself at wandpoint. Malfoy smirked and beckoned.  
  
"This way, Potter"  
  
Harry obeyed, not knowing whether Draco could actually hurt him on school grounds but not wanting to find out the hard way. The Slytherin led him to a deserted room in the middle of the dungeons and locked the door behind him.  
  
"How are you, Potter?" he asked, the grey eyes glistening coldly.  
  
Unsure already, Harry shrugged.  
  
"I'm fine, thank you, Malfoy."  
  
"Ingero!"  
  
"Aii! What the hell are you playing at, Malfoy?" asked Harry, hands covering his private parts. Malfoy had just stripped him. The Slytherin smirked.  
  
"Oops, sorry. Must be a fault in the spell. . .but that doesn't explain your arms."  
  
Harry went from red to white to green to red again.  
  
"Now, I think we should make a little deal. Because. . .I now have two pieces of information the Prophet would kill to get their hands on. So. . .shall we bargain?"  
  
Harry nodded mutely and Draco tossed him his robes back disdainfully. After dressing himself, Harry sank into a chair, still pale.  
  
"Well, Potter, I don't know why I said bargain really. Basically, you will do whatever I want and I may refrain from telling the Prophet that the Golden Boy can't stand up for himself against his abusive relatives and that he cuts his arms. Do we have a deal?"  
  
Feeling sick to his stomach Harry nodded.  
  
********************************************  
  
He was going to make a quick exit from the deserted classroom, but an authoritative snap of the fingers from Draco stopped him dead in his tracks.  
  
"Excuse me, Potter, but I don't recall dismissing you. Total obedience, remember. . ."  
  
Harry turned, head bowed in defeat. Some part of him knew that Malfoy would probably tell Skeeter anyway, but any chance was worth taking.  
  
"Now. . .let's see. . .you can walk with me to Charms and carry my bag. Because it's very heavy."  
  
"But I have History of Magic!"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. You must have me confused with someone who cares. Move!"  
  
Harry dragged Draco's bag all the way to the charms classroom, aware of the Slytherin adding weighting charms to it every few steps. He was also aware of the odd looks he was getting, though thankfully there weren't many people around. However rumours spread fast, especially in Slytherin, and everyone saw Harry give Draco's bag back to him outside the charms classroom.  
  
Draco walked in smirking all over his face, and Pansy Parkinson simpered up at him,  
  
"How did you do that, Draco?"  
  
For once Draco relied civilly to her  
  
"Oh, just a little Malfoy trick"  
  
*********************************************  
  
Binns thankfully didn't notice Harry's late entrance, but Hermione fixed him with a look that said they would be talking later. Ron gave him a half- smile across the room which Harry forced himself to return.  
  
After the lesson Hermione collared him before he could escape and dragged him to the Hall, Ron following and smiling gormlessly. She sat him down and watched as he looked at her in confusion.  
  
"Aren't you going to eat anything?"  
  
Harry forced his face to remain calm even though his hart pounded and his stomach churned.  
  
"Yes. . .aren't you?"  
  
Suspiciously, Hermione put potatoes and chicken legs on her plate and began to eat. Harry took some potatoes and vegetable stew and lifted a forkful to his mouth. Would this work? He wondered. With his wand held carefully under the table he transfigured the potato into a speck of dust, and pretended to chew. Hermione looked satisfied and Harry repeated the process with most of his vegetable stew and potatoes. Knowing that the witch would be suspicious if he cleaned his plate - he'd never had much of an appetite - he left a little bit of food at sat back in his chair, sighing as though full, inwardly amazed at his acting skills.  
  
Meanwhile at the staff table Snape was rubbing his eyes. He had just been glancing over the Gryffindor table, past the Weasleys stuffing their faces, to see Potter looking worriedly at his plate of potatoes and stew. The boy lifted a forkful of potato and then. . .it disappeared, before he put the empty fork in his mouth. Snape frowned and blinked slightly. It must have been his eyes playing tricks on him. . .how odd. . .  
  
************************************  
  
Harry sat with Hermione trying to make sense of the potions essay they had to write. As he watched Hermione poring over a huge book trying to research the uses of aconite in invisibility potions and Ron trying to read Quidditch Monthly surreptitiously he thought back to how it had been; how close they had been. He remembered the Philosophers Stone, when even the greatest danger they'd been in had been funny. Phrases whirled unbidden in his mind.  
  
"Don't panic, Ron!"  
  
"I think he's panicking. . ."  
  
"Fire, oh, how can we build a fire?"  
  
"Are you a witch or not?"  
  
He was jerked out of his thoughts.  
  
"Are you a wizard or not?"  
  
He pushed Hermione gently out of the way and grabbed the book. Holding his wand in his left hand he whispered,  
  
"Invenio uses of aconite"  
  
The book slammed shut and opened at a new place, the page titled "uses of aconite". Hermione gaped, and was about to say something when screams were heard from the people nearest the Fat Lady. Loud thumps were coming from the other side of the common room door. Suddenly she swung open looking very miffed, and about twelve huge books flew across the room. Harry dived under the table and felt it shake as the books landed in a row. There was a rustle of pages, and when he emerged every book was opened at information on aconite and it's uses. One book, which looked like it had been hidden behind a shelf for a long time, contained an entire essay on why aconite was the best herb to use in invisibility potions. Hermione gaped at harry, and a grin stretched across her page as she picked up her arithmancy text.  
  
"Invenio seven!" she cried, pointing her wand at the book, but it did nothing. She looked at Harry, confused.  
  
"Maybe it only works with potions?" she said doubtfully. "Why don't you have a go?"  
  
Harry held his wand in his left hand again.  
  
"Invenio seven" he said, and the book instantly opened on a page giving all the uses of the number seven. Hermione stared at him.  
  
"How much other magic like that can you do, Harry?"  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
"I can do anything, if I put my mind to it. . ."  
  
Hermione frowned.  
  
"But there aren't spells for everything! For instance, you can't conjure items, or completely destroy them. That's just impossible!"  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
"Do you know the spell to make items visible?"  
  
Hermione nodded, her face tight.  
  
"Cast it, just here, on the desk"  
  
Hermione did. Nothing happened. Then Harry pointed his wand at the table, and shut his eyes in concentration. Slowly, a small chip of granite began to appear, as though through a cloud. Harry was sweating with the strain, as the stone grew and grew. Finally it stopped, being no bigger than a sickle in diameter, and Harry slumped back in his chair, exhausted. Hermione gaped at him.  
  
"Harry" she said in a timid voice, "Harry, I'm a little scared now. . ."  
  
Harry frowned.  
  
"It's only a little piece of magic, 'Mione."  
  
"NO, Harry, it's NOT!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill. "It's impossible! Nobody could do that! Not Voldemort, not Dumbledore, not Grindlewald, not Flamel, not even Merlin!"  
  
Harry swallowed.  
  
"Harry, come with me" Hermione led him upstairs to the girls dorm and locked the door magically. "I need you to prove that you are really really magically able. I want you to try and apparate to the other end of the dorm."  
  
Harry nodded, and closed his eyes, imagining himself at the other end of the room. He heard a small pop, and opened his eyes. Seven feet away, at the other end of the dormitory, Hermione was crumpling into a dead faint. 


	4. The Wards Fall The Final Battle

Harry knelt by Hermione and shook the witch gently, his heart in his mouth.  
  
"'Mione? 'Mione, are you ok?"  
  
Hermione sat up a little shakily.  
  
"Sorry, it was just a shock. I mean. . .I know you and Ron laugh at me for reading 'Hogwarts - A History', but it does contain some useful information. Like, it is physically impossible to apparate or disapparate inside Hogwarts. It's all built into the wards. . .even Voldemort couldn't do that!"  
  
Harry paled, but for a different reason.  
  
"Oh my god! What if I've knocked the wards down?"  
  
Hermione's mouth dropped open, and she gasped.  
  
"Dumbledore!"  
  
With energy he didn't know his exhausted limbs possessed Harry sprinted upstairs. Suddenly his vision began to blur and the world tilted drastically. With a gasp he fell forwards and instead of hitting heavy stone, as he had expected, he lurched into something soft and warm. Instinctively he grasped the thing, and felt it stiffen and move away. Then the worst thing possible happened.  
  
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Snape icily, and Harry flinched at his tone.  
  
"Um. . .sorry?" he whispered, disentangling himself from the man's black robes. Harry's face was a rather unhealthy shade of red. Snape, who probably wasn't capable of going even rose coloured, seemed to be going even paler with anger. His black eyes glittered.  
  
"Under any other circumstances, Potter, I would relish the opportunity to deduct house points and give you a yeas worth of detentions for attacking a professor. However that pleasant time will have to wait. Now move, I'm in a hurry."  
  
"But sir, I have to see the headmaster!"  
  
"Oh dear. What a shame - just goes to show you can't have everything you want. I don't care why you want to see the headmaster, the wards have just fallen and unless you really want to be killed then I would SHUT UP AND GO BACK TO YOUR COMMON ROOM!"  
  
Harry flinched at the words, memories of his uncle flooding back. However he was disturbed by Dumbledore coming out. His face was tight with anxiety and anger.  
  
"For Merlin's sake, Severus! Stop it this instant! Harry, come in."  
  
Harry followed Dumbledore into his study, trying to ignore the murderous expression on Snape's face.  
  
"Sir, it was me - I broke the wards. I'm so sorry!"  
  
Dumbledore smiled beatifically and shook his head.  
  
"Don't worry yourself my dear boy. It is impossible that you could have broken them, powerful as you are." He continued talking over Harry's protestations.  
  
"They'll be fixed soon, everything will be fine. . ."  
  
"Everything will NOT be fine!" snapped Snape, who had just come in. "The defensive spells aren't working! It must have been Voldemort!" His face was pale now with fear but his voice was strong. In the background Harry was frantically protesting.  
  
"It was me! I broke the bloody wards!"  
  
Losing his temper, Snape drew his wand and silenced Harry with an irritable flick. Enraged, Harry waved his wand, and wrapped cords around both the men. Dumbledore's eyes blazed in shocked fury. Snape was the same, minus shock. They both looked like they would like to curse him into oblivion if they had their wands. Which they didn't because Harry had just disarmed them.  
  
"How," said Harry, patiently, "Am I meant to have known the wards fell if I didn't do it? And I did do it, unintentionally. Hence I can redo them. I presume. I apparated inside Hogwarts, which I suppose would be enough to break the wards. Now, will you please give me a chance to redo them?"  
  
Dumbledore looked like he was going to faint. Snape looked like he was going to punch Harry. So Harry only released Dumbledore from the bonds. The old man walked to his desk and regarded Harry.  
  
"I cannot understand how this has happened, but please try."  
  
Harry nodded curtly, ignoring Snape's writhing and glowering. He shut his eyes, wand out, and reached out in his mind for the threads of defence that held Hogwarts safe. Snape and Dumbledore watched in awe as Harry's wand traced intricate patterns in the air. In his mind the threads started joining together to form defences, weaving in layers so that magic couldn't penetrate. He was dimly aware of flicking his wand once to seal the ends of the spells, and then he stumbled backwards with fatigue. He hit the same warm body that he had before, but this time felt the hands catch hold of him surprisingly gently before he lost all consciousness.  
  
************************************  
  
"He'll be alright, Severus. The strain of doing the wards was incredible. I really have no idea how he could have done it. . ."  
  
Snape nodded absently. So the great Potter had another feather to add to his cap; another reason to be arrogant. But in a way Snape almost felt a little bit sorry for him, because this power would, as all his other assets had, result in Potter becoming a tool. And that was something no wizard - no boy - should become.  
  
"The boy has become skinny" he said without thinking. Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"He's growing."  
  
Snape nodded curtly, but couldn't help thinking that even growing teenagers shouldn't have that many ribs sticking out that far. Still, it wasn't his problem. Maybe he would speak with Minerva.  
  
*******************************************  
  
Draco stood outside Dumbledore's door grinning wickedly. With the blackmail he had on Harry, it would be easy to get the powerful young wizard to take down the wards. Then his Lord and Master would take over, and kill the interfering old Headmaster for good. Suddenly he heard voices moving towards the door.  
  
"Move, Potter. You need to sleep." Came Snape's sharp tones. Draco suspected the man of being a spy. He ought to report it to Voldemort. The young Slytherin slipped behind a statue and watched Snape leave, his hand on Potter's back. He kicked Harry as the boy passed and raised an eyebrow. Looking resigned, Harry nodded slightly and followed Snape. Five minutes later he returned and Draco dragged him into an empty classroom.  
  
"Interesting conversation there, Potter. I daresay some people would be interested to hear some of the things I overheard there." He had the satisfaction of seeing Potter pale.  
  
"Do my transfiguration and charms for me tonight and I may reconsider. . ."  
  
They both knew he wouldn't.  
  
****************************************  
  
Harry stayed up all night completing both his and Draco's homework. He thought he'd made a reasonable job, but his thoughts were distracted by Draco. How much was the boy going to want him to do? Would he honestly ask Harry to jeopardise the safety of the school?  
  
In the morning he got up and had a cup of water. He had lost weight at an amazing rate - he had to admit that he was getting close to a normal weight. During the night he had made several long and deep cuts on his arm, and they itched and burned now. In some twisted way the pain felt good. When Hermione asked him, he said he'd eaten already, having woken up early. The witch believed him. She didn't hear his stomach growling.  
  
Meanwhile, Draco had owled his father with the news that Hogwarts wards could be broken from the inside. He knew that Voldemort's power was increasing day by day. What he didn't know was that Harry was also aware of this, and had told Dumbledore.  
  
"Harry. You will take down the wards tomorrow, after alerting Voldemort, at precisely 7.00pm. The staff will ensure that everyone is safe. The teachers and aurors will take care of the fighting, you will kill Voldemort."  
  
Harry nodded stiffly. He knew what a huge risk it was. But they had to act before Voldemort gained so much power that Harry had no chance at all.  
  
So the next day, at 5.00, Harry was prepared for Draco to accost him.  
  
"You will take down the wards, Potter" he whispered, his breath in Harry's ear making the Gryffindor shake with fear.  
  
"At what time?"  
  
"11.00"  
  
"But everyone will be in their dormitories."  
  
Draco gave a long suffering sigh.  
  
"What time would suit you then, Potter?"  
  
"about 7.00pm? I'll be able to work in the Hall, and nobody will notice me while they're eating."  
  
Draco nodded with finality.  
  
"7.00 it is. Enjoy the show, Potter."  
  
Harry's stomach leapt with terror, and he wondered what sort of a hero he was. If he failed, the whole wizarding world would come to ruin. He was holding a million lives in his hand.  
  
**************************************  
  
Harry knew Draco had apparated out of the school by dinner-time. The frightened pupils had been shepherded into their common rooms. Now Harry, the teachers and a group of aurors were standing in the great hall, waiting for Harry. He felt around in his mind, pulling at a loose edge of the weave of spells, and seeing them untangle and come loose.  
  
With an almighty crash, the doors flew open and Harry raised his head silently to look at his nemesis.  
  
Voldemort had truly returned.  
  
The red eyes gazed around the room, turning from smirking in pleasure to flashing with anger.  
  
"Malfoy! Where are the children?"  
  
"I do not know, my lord." Said Draco, sounding scared. The look on Voldemort's face told him that there would be severe pain later.  
  
Then Dumbledore stepped forward, wand in hand.  
  
"Let the battle begin."  
  
Before Harry could blink, curses were being thrown. To his momentary surprise, even his side were using Unforgivables. He quickly darted under a knife curse and found himself face to face with a death eater. With a flick of his wand he disarmed them and knocked them out. Then, using a nifty transport spell, he sent them to the ministry of magic. Around him he could see aurors doing the same. However they were vastly outnumbered by the Death Eaters. Voldemort was prowling amongst the fighting people, an evil smile spread over his face; he made no attempt to cast any spells.  
  
Suddenly, Harry felt the agony of the Cruciatus hitting him from behind. Turning stiffly, he saw Malfoy senior holding the curse on him at the same time as Draco. They were both smirking identical smirks. Trying to collect his wits, Harry lurched at Lucius and surprised him enough to be able to stun him and send him to the ministry. But the pain from Draco's continued curse was making his head swim and his arms ache. He slumped to the ground, and saw Draco's mouth form the words, "a. . .va. . .da. . ." as though in slow motion. Forcing his limbs up, he bellowed the forbidden words once. Green light illuminated the hall, and Draco fell backwards, a look of amazement on his haughty features. Harry began to shake. He had killed someone. He had killed Malfoy. Malfoy had a family; had a past; had no future. Because Harry had killed him.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
He turned and saw Dumbledore being held in midair in a sort of bubble that didn't seem to have any air in it.  
  
It was now or never.  
  
The headmaster was clawing at the walls of the bubble, gasping for air.  
  
Harry held his wand at Voldemort, and began an incantation in his head, not knowing what it meant. Everything had gone quiet, as though there was water in his ears. Through a fog he could see the teachers protecting him from the death-eaters spells, and could just hear Voldemort screaming. And then he found an elusive surge of power, and there was an explosion that killed all the Death Eaters within 20 feet of Voldemort. And when the smoke cleared, there was nothing where Voldemort had been. Only a thin stick of wood that had once been the most feared weapon of all time.  
  
Harry stood, staring at the tableau for a few moments. He heard someone release Dumbledore; heard the stunned laughter and chatter. He heard Snape exclaim as he rolled up his sleeve and saw that the Mark was gone. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He saw Draco's body, lying, staring at the ceiling, and in that moment wished that he could be dead as well. He pulled away from the congratulatory arms, trying to hold back a sob, and fled the hall.  
  
He only knew of one place where nobody would think to look for him - the Astronomy tower. He pounded up the steps, feeling his muscles burning in his legs. It didn't hurt enough. There was a small rock, a chip of marble, which had come off from the tower. It was simple enough to transfigure it into a knife, which he ripped into his delicate flesh over and over again, with tears pouring down his face. Blood ran down his arms and legs and chest in small red rivers. He felt oddly detached from it. Who would have guessed that the Boy-Who-Lived as a murderer? Harry Potter killed a boy. Draco Malfoy. I killed Malfoy. He's dead. Never coming back. Was this how Voldemort had begun his rise to evil?  
  
Malfoy's blank face seemed to be lodged in his head. No malice in those sharp features now. Dead. Such a final word. . .  
  
The blade dug into his skin again, tearing. He didn't want to look at the story the scars would tell. He didn't care. What was the point? He was a tool. He would just rust now.  
  
Malfoy. Dead. Killed. Murdered.  
  
Never coming back.  
  
Dead.  
  
He was cold. Shivering. Did it matter? Malfoy would never be warm or cold again. He'd never be anything.  
  
When would Harry die? Would it be as sudden as a flash of green light? Or would it be slow and painful? Did the Avada Kedavra hurt? Tickle? Burn? Freeze?  
  
Dead, dead, dead.  
  
Harry curled up underneath his cloak. He could hear the shouts of joy and celebration. They were all happy. Draco was dead. What excuse was there to kill a boy who was only Harry's age? Could he had killed Ron or Dean if he'd needed to?  
  
Nobody came to look for him.  
  
************************************  
  
Snape watched Harry flee with a sinking heart. They were already cheering. Dumbledore looked at the door where Harry had left from and shrugged, moving around the room, shaking hands.  
  
Just a tool. No boy deserved that.  
  
He watched as the night progressed, unable to keep a smile from his face. Eventually the smile faded as he realised nobody was going to get Potter, and he slipped out unnoticed into the cool night air. Someone would have to get the students out of their rooms soon and tell them that Voldemort was dead.  
  
His black eyes searched the night sky, and he saw a shape huddled on the astronomy tower. Deciding on the spot, he stalked towards the stairs. The boy was huddled underneath his cloak, and for some reason the sight hurt Snape. More gently than he had intended, he spoke.  
  
"You'll freeze up here."  
  
Harry didn't look up, or give any indication he knew Snape had spoken. However he replied after a few moments.  
  
"Where else do I have to go? I'm just going to be like an exhibit - something to stare at. I can't face that."  
  
He turned his face, and the moonlight reflected off his features. Snape could see the tracks of tears that had run down his face, and copious blood around his cheeks.  
  
"You're bleeding."  
  
Again, Harry shrugged.  
  
"Probably someone else's blood. I don't hurt." The word 'outside' was left hanging.  
  
After another pause, Snape crossed the distance between them and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. He wasn't gentle, but hadn't expected the violent jerk away from him.  
  
"Potter, we've spent this long keeping you alive, and I'll be damned if you're going to die now by falling off the astronomy tower."  
  
Immediately he knew it had been the wrong thing to say - a terrible thing to say. Stupid beyond belief. Potter got to his feet and swayed momentarily, perilously close to the edge. Then he pushed past Snape, eyes full of some deep pain.  
  
"Well, I've done my job now. You can just forget about me now."  
  
Snape winced at the icy tone, and briefly wondered where Harry was going. He contemplated following him, but decided that his intrusion would be unwelcome, and with a feeling of heavy apprehension he headed back to the festivities in the Great Hall. 


	5. The Next Day

It was as Snape had feared. Everyone had forgotten about Harry.  
  
Obviously during the time in which they had been on the Astronomy Tower the students had been let out. When Snape went downstairs the hall was packed with students, none of whom seemed to have any idea that the boy who had saved them was absent. Would they have noticed if he had died?  
  
He forced himself to mingle and tried to force a smile onto his face at all the correct times. Fudge was bumbling around, taking everyone's congratulations. The festivities quietened down at around 2.00am the next day. Fudge was extremely inebriated, calling for a toast. He praised 'Drimbledoo' for his courage and bravery, and then called for Harry Potty. Everyone went quiet, people searching for Harry. There was, naturally, no sign of him. Snape resisted the strong temptation to sneer as he spoke up.  
  
"He left."  
  
Again, Snape felt glad for the fact that even when he did treat himself to a glass of firewhisky he didn't end up looking as stupid as Fudge. The minister's bowler hat was hanging precariously off one ear. Stupid man.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"I do not know" replied Snape coolly.  
  
Fudge looked like he was about to press the issue but then he passed out. Snape really couldn't resist giving the fat man a swift kick in the ribs.  
  
Around them people started talking again, resuming their on conversations, and Fudge was carted off to some quiet room, hopefully to be locked in. More people were arriving by the second. The bodies had all been removed, and it had been deemed safe to open up all the fireplaces in Hogwarts. Snape could see the Weasleys all crowding around each other. He shuddered and turned away, fervently hoping that he would have died or retired before the next batch of Weasleys arrived at Hogwarts.  
  
He supposed Narcissa had been caught as well. Quite frankly he was glad that the whole Malfoy family would be out of his hair. He had never liked Draco, but appearances had to be kept up for Voldemort's sake. The boy had no good in him. He was as cold and calculating as his father and mother. He had never had a chance, but then again he had never fought. It was getting cold as night fell. Snape wrapped his cloak tightly around him and tried to stop thinking about Potter.  
  
However the scene wouldn't leave his mind. There had been blood and tears, and it was wrong. It didn't fit. The destruction of Voldemort should have bloated Potter's head even more. He should have been in the middle of the festivities with his annoying friends. And speaking of which. . .  
  
"Professor, have you seen Harry?"  
  
"No" he sneered, making his face as cod as he possibly could. Granger fled, muttering about unfair bastards of greasy potions masters. Snape assumed that she had drunk too much. Great. He'd have a whole day full of teaching hungover brats. Maybe he should teach them all how to brew a hangover potion. . .  
  
. . .or maybe not.  
  
He allowed himself a smirk.  
  
*************************************  
  
Harry lay on his bed, idly twirling the knife above his arms. The candle- light flickered and shimmered behind the mist of tears obscuring his eyes, and made the knife's blade twinkle like a star.  
  
He allowed the blade to touch his skin; imagined it to be a mother's touch. Was this what the relief of a hug felt like?  
  
It only took a little pressure. He wasn't aiming to kill himself; just to cope with some of this pain that was sitting on his chest. It seemed to be cutting off his heart and lungs, so that his breathing came in choked gasps. When he saw the blood trickling down his arm in a small river, his tortured lungs relaxed and he gulped in the air. The cuts from the astronomy were still open but not bleeding any more. It occurred to him that maybe there were healthier ways of coping, but he honestly couldn't be bothered to think of them. Not when his skin was so hot, and the knife so cold. Not really. . .  
  
He crawled into bed ignoring the state of his robes, and cast a powerful locking spell on his curtains which would prevent anyone from entering.  
  
He would clean himself up in the morning.  
  
He fell asleep quickly, for once, and was dreaming peacefully. Until he saw Draco's face.  
  
Lifeless, staring straight at Harry. He watched as though hypnotised, and then all of a sudden the boy's mouth opened. Harry tried to scream but his own was jammed shut.  
  
"You killed me Potter. Murderer."  
  
And then Draco's eyes shot open and they were red and serpentine, and then Harry could scream, and he flung himself out of bed.  
  
The impact of landing on the floor woke him abruptly, and he looked around quickly. Thankfully nobody was awake. He shuddered at the memory of the dream, knowing that it would now haunt him every time he went to sleep. Deciding he might as well do some work, he padded downstairs to the common room and got out some textbooks. However his attention kept wandering, Unable to stand it any longer, he pulled up the sleeve of his robe. His arms were slashed to varying degrees of depth from the shoulder to wrist. He would be in so much trouble if anyone found out.  
  
But nobody would. . .  
  
. . .so what was the problem with continuing?  
  
**********************************************  
  
Harry left in the morning after showering and changing his robes, and went straight to the dining room. It was virtually deserted, only Dumbledore was there talking to Professor Vector. There were also some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and a rather hung-over looking Gryffindor who Harry only vaguely knew. He gulped down a glass of water and half a slice of wholemeal bread, flinching as he felt solid food hit his throat. He suddenly realised that the hall was so quiet because he was late, and he had potions first lesson.  
  
He was just on time. He sprinted into the classroom and Snape sneered at him, but didn't take points. Harry found his mind wandering as Snape told them which potion they would be making.  
  
"Well? What are you waiting for?"  
  
Harry got to his feet, again feeling the world revolve around him. However this time the spinning brought nausea with it. H stumbled and Ron caught him.  
  
"Are you alright, mate?"  
  
Harry shook his head, wishing that the spinning would stop. He was dimly aware of voices, fading in and out, and then someone propelling him somewhere, and he really didn't care where. Then the spinning started to grow darker and fade to black, and his final thought was, 'Snape's going to kill me. . .'  
  
****************** SNAPE POV **********************  
  
My intimidating stare at the rather worse-for-wear Gryffindors was completely ruined by Potter running in late. I had to break off my entire glare at the class and fix it on him instead, and the stupid boy didn't notice anything. Annoyed, I began telling them about the potion, and watched the boy start to doze off. Eventually he managed to muster the energy to get up. . .and then he swayed, and I had a bad feeling. I watched as Weasley caught him and asked if he was alright. Shake of the head - no. Weasley looked at me in a blind panic. Useless boy. Then I actually caught sight of Potter. He looked as pale as a ghost, and his eyes were flickering open and shut. I sharply told Weasley to take him to Pomfrey, not wanting the responsibility to fall on me, but the damn boy completely fainted before they had even reached the door.  
  
********************************************************  
  
Snape picked Harry up gently, and snarled at Ron to open the door to his private chambers. He carried Harry in and laid him on the sofa. Ron was still hovering, and Snape sent him to tell the class to continue with what they were doing.  
  
Suddenly a groan from behind him made him turn around from his cabinet of potions. Harry was looking very ill. Hardly noticing Snape, he staggered to the basin and threw up. Wondering at his kindness, Snape approached Harry from behind and caught his shoulders. He was surprised when Harry had jerked back as though he had been cursed.  
  
"I am not going to hurt you, Potter. Can you imagine how Dumbledore would react?"  
  
Harry's mouth quirked up into a reluctant smile.  
  
"Come on, you need to see Pomfrey."  
  
"No, thank you professor. . .I feel much better now."  
  
"Funny, I don't remember phrasing that as a question."  
  
Faking a look of resignation, Harry shrugged.  
  
"Ok, sir, I'll go."  
  
Snape watched Harry leave quickly albeit a bit unsteadily with a smirk on his face. Anyone would rather be in the hospital wing than in the potions room - especially with Snape.  
  
************************************  
  
If Harry hadn't been feeling so ill then he might have laughed aloud at Snape's arrogance. There was no chance that he would go to Pomfrey. He knew perfectly well that she would tell Dumbledore, see the weeping sores on his back from where he had been beaten, see the cuts on his arms. . .no, it just wasn't worth it.  
  
Bored, he wandered aimlessly through the corridors. He saw Nearly Headless Nick and waved a greeting. Nick came over and they talked for a few moments. Then harry realised what he really wanted to do.  
  
He headed towards the great hall and peered inside. It was deserted. To be on the safe side, he cast a heat detector which would alert him to anyone in there who was invisible. Still nobody.  
  
The hall reeked of dark magic and it made him shudder. There was a little blood on the floor which the house elves had not been able to remove and it made his stomach turn. He hastily walked out and rested his head against the wall.  
  
"Oh, my dear boy!" started Trelawny from behind him, and he fled.  
  
*******************************************  
  
Ron caught up with him on his way to charms.  
  
"You ok, Harry? You looked terrible in potions!"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. I think it was just some ingredient. . ."  
  
Ron nodded, and they continued on their way to charms. Hermione quickly caught up with them. "Harry, are you ok?"  
  
"Yes!" said Harry, more sharply than he meant to. Hermione looked hurt for a minute, but he quickly apologised.  
  
"I'm sorry, 'Mione. I've just had exactly the same conversation with Ron. . .and I've got a bit of a headache. . ."  
  
It was the wrong thing to say, because Hermione instantly began checking his face.  
  
"Oh for god's sake, 'Mione! I'm fine!"  
  
Again she looked hurt, but Harry really couldn't be bothered to apologise. Ron put an arm around her and glared at Harry.  
  
"You shouldn't talk to her like that! We're just worried!"  
  
"Yeah, well, don't. I'm fine. And. . .Ron. . .why have you got your arm around her?"  
  
Harry's heart was sinking. He ad, supposedly, been dating Hermione for over a year. But with the stress of Voldemort, they hadn't really had much time. But surely Ron wouldn't. . .  
  
"Harry, I'm sorry. . .we just really like each other. . ."  
  
Harry nodded, hating himself for the tears that were threatening to well up in his eyes. He knew what Hermione had thought. 'What's the use in a boyfriend like him? No potential. . .' and it there was one thing Hermione needed it was potential. After Hogwarts, Harry would just end up living off his fame, whether he liked it or not. Whereas Ron had ambition - he could work in the Ministry. His life lay in front of him, rather than in the past.  
  
Harry felt pain burn him from the inside out, and hurried on ahead, ignoring both the pleas of his rapidly wasting muscles, and the shouts from his friends.  
  
*********************************************  
  
Charms was a nightmare. As was every other lesson of that day. Harry couldn't concentrate at all, and he felt constantly ill. He didn't sleep that night either. Deciding that he might as well get some exercise to make sure he didn't get too badly overweight, harry threw his invisibility cloak over himself and silently left the portrait hole. He only realised that he had forgotten the Marauders Map when he was half way down the corridor, and decided that waking the Fat Lady would only make her grouchy. After all, what harm could he come to if he was invisible?  
  
He liked wandering the corridors at night like a ghost. Perhaps when he died he would become a ghost, and have conversations with all the students. Perhaps they would like him. . .  
  
He would have smiled, had his lips not been dead. He obviously hadn't realised quite how cold it was. His fingers were turning purple! Thankful that old habits died hard, he drew his wand out of the lining of his pyjama bottoms and cast a heating spell on himself. It took several tries to work. He was so engrossed in his wand that he didn't notice Snape walking straight towards him. He walked straight into the professor, falling over backwards with a yelp as some more delicate wounds on his back re-opened.  
  
He looked up to find that the cloak had slipped and that Snape had his wand trained on his foot which was the only part showing.  
  
"Take the cloak off, Potter" he said.  
  
Harry groaned silently and complied. He was aware that he was shivering without the added warmth of the cloak. Snape regarded him through narrowed eyes for a few minutes, and then gestured sharply.  
  
"Come with me, Potter." 


	6. A Poetic Interlude

The stars shine in the velvet sky,  
  
Twinkling down. I wonder why,  
  
I am in this place; wonder what was my crime,  
  
Wonder why I've tasted Hell before my time.  
  
Wonder when this pain is going to stop; wonder,  
  
Gazing at the blackness above, blunder,  
  
Invisible, soft, beautiful. I hide,  
  
Behind the stars; black in front, far and wide.  
  
I sit alone, and watch them, allied,  
  
Safe and protected from every side,  
  
Wonder why it couldn't be me,  
  
Vulnerable, see pity,  
  
Shines in their eyes. Like stars;  
  
Tears glisten, pearly, distant like Mars,  
  
A parallel universe,  
  
I remain alone. 


	7. A Meeting

Snape kept his eyes on Harry as they walked to the dungeon. He noticed with some apprehension how Harry always wanted to fall behind, as though he was about to run off.  
  
"Potter, don't even think of running off. I came out tonight with the sole purpose of finding you."  
  
Harry gulped. This could not be good.  
  
"Um, sir? Why?"  
  
Snape, however, ignored him and continued into the dungeons. Realising that he was shivering, Harry pulled his cloak around him and sped up a little.  
  
"Sir, why did lessons go back to normal today?"  
  
Snape paused, and looked at Harry's floating head with a sneer.  
  
"So many dead" he whispered, "Does it seem right to celebrate? Many student's parents on either side were killed. The celebration on the night was sufficient."  
  
He kept walking, and Harry followed him silently. Too soon they were at his room. He muttered the password and let Harry in in front of him. Harry looked around the room. There was a desk where Snape obviously worked, and a chair in front of it. To the side there was a comfortable looking sofa which is where Harry supposed Snape had put him down earlier. He was jerked from his contemplation by Snape's silky voice.  
  
"Sit."  
  
As Snape was sat behind the desk, Harry presumed he should sit in the hard chair. It was a shame really, since the sofa was so comfortable.  
  
"You went to see Pomfrey today, when I sent you, did you not?"  
  
Harry nodded, his eyes innocent. Snape leaned forward over the desk .  
  
"Pomfrey's sister has been taken ill. She left straight after breakfast."  
  
Harry swallowed.  
  
"Yes, sir. I went and lay down for a while, and left when she didn't come in."  
  
"That must have been an achievement, Potter. The door was locked."  
  
Harry swallowed again, wondering if Snape would actually kill him.  
  
"You know, I really should tell Professor Dumbledore. After all, it is unacceptable practice for a student to miss lessons. . ."  
  
"Oh no, sir, please don't. . ."  
  
Snape leaned back in his chair and regarded Harry though lidded eyes.  
  
"I will make you a deal. Because I am curious. I will not tell Dumbledore about you leaving my class and not going to the infirmary if you will tell me why you didn't go to Pomfrey."  
  
Harry groaned inwardly. Of all things to ask . . .and yet, Dumbledore would be so angry, so disappointed. . .  
  
"Sir, why didn't he come after me?"  
  
It wasn't meant to have come out so petulantly; it was meant to be a mature and sensible question. Snape sighed and massaged his temples.  
  
"He was very busy that night, Harry. He had lots of people to talk to." But even as he uttered the words he knew how fake they sounded. Dumbledore simply wasn't bothered when his tools had outlived their usefulness. The man would treat Harry like a normal student now. And Snape knew how much it would hurt.  
  
Harry looked at his lap silently.  
  
"Can I have some time to think about it, sir?"  
  
Snape shook his head, taking a little pleasure from the way the boy tensed with worry.  
  
"I just didn't want. . .do you promise you won't make me go to Dumbledore?"  
  
Snape nodded, suddenly curious.  
  
"And you won't make me tell anyone else. . .or tell anyone else yourself?"  
  
Snape paused briefly before nodding his agreement.  
  
"There are certain things which she would have found out which I didn't want her to find out."  
  
Snape's stomach tightened. He suddenly had a bad feeling about this, though he didn't know why.  
  
"What things, Potter?"  
  
"My. . ." Harry stopped. "My. . .my. . .um. . ."  
  
"Spit it out!"  
  
"I can't!" Harry's eyes looked very bright in the firelight. "I can't say it. . .whenever I try, my tongue seizes up. I just can't say it!"  
  
Snape groaned. This was a form of terror, usually caused by copious use of torture curses. There was only one way of getting past it.  
  
"I have to go inside your mind, Harry."  
  
Harry recoiled.  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"The reason you can't talk, it's a fear factor. The only way of overcoming it is for me to go inside your mind and see what's distressing you."  
  
Suddenly, Harry didn't care. He just wanted someone to understand. He was fed up of hiding.  
  
"Go ahead" he whispered, and shaking slightly Snape drew his wand.  
  
"Do you trust me enough to do this?"  
  
Harry considered for a moment, and nodded.  
  
"I wouldn't let anyone else do this." At Snape's amazed look he elaborated. "You're the only professor who treats me like Harry, rather than the famous Potter, Golden Boy, Boy-Who-Lived. I think you'll understand."  
  
Snape nodded silently, slightly moved by the boy's words. He waved the wand once, and whispered "Incaputio".  
  
He felt a rushing wind howl around his ears, and succumbed to the darkness. He shut his eyes, and when he opened them again he was in a muggle house. The first thing that hit him was a stench of blood and sweat and fear. Knowing that he was invisible, he walked to the door of what seemed to be a broom cupboard. He walked through the door, as the spell basically made him into a ghost, and looked inside.  
  
It was a picture of desolation. The windows were heavily barred. There was a cloak folded upon the floor, and a pot which was serving a toilet if the foul smells were anything to go by. He moved closer and realised that underneath a loose floorboard lay the infamous invisibility cloak and Harry's wand. He took a seat, knowing deep down that the impact of the memory would occur here. He didn't have long to wait. From down the corridor he could hear a thumping and slithering, as though something heavy was being dragged. A deep voice was complaining about freakish people, and several other voices were also punctuating the comments.  
  
The door slammed open, and Harry was sent flying into the cupboard headfirst.  
  
"You will NEVER be going back to that stupid school, you hear me? NEVER!"  
  
The muggle's face was twisted in fury. Harry's eyes blazed and he looked the fat man square in the face.  
  
"Don't you think my godfather will be worried?"  
  
"No. I think that your godfather is on the run from the authorities, if he even does exist. I don't think he's going to save you. . .I think I can do whatever I like. . ."  
  
Snape had previously been labouring under the misapprehension that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were the most cruel beings one could encounter. However this muggle just left him speechless. Harry was his nephew, for Merlin's sake!  
  
He watched in mounting horror as Harry was brutally beaten with the man's fists, and finally his belt. Through the whole torture Harry remained conscious, but didn't show any pain at all. His face was forced into a neutral expression, but his hands were clenched into fists. Snape stood watching the tableau in complete shock. This was wrong - it wasn't meant to be like this! Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, was supposed to live in complete comfort and be spoiled rotten by his relatives.  
  
The rest of the scene was no better. Harry was starved, beaten and locked in his cupboard. He was insulted horribly by his fat cousin and uncle, and in one incident was even hit over the head with a frying pan. His face relaxed as he fell into unconsciousness and Snape felt a pang of sympathy for the boy who had shown bravery beyond anything he had previously been idolised for.  
  
Suddenly Snape felt himself fade away from the scene. He was in a deserted classroom. Draco was sat smirking at Harry.  
  
". . .wouldn't it be a shock to them all, Potter? I wonder how much they'd pay to get their hands on that information?"  
  
"Please, sir, don't. . ."  
  
Snape started at Harry's meekness. Calling a fellow student sir?  
  
"Well, just to make sure I don't forget not to tell anyone, you can lose today's game. Convincingly. You know what I mean."  
  
That must have been just before the game where Harry had missed the Snitch by a hairs breadth. So. . .Draco had been blackmailing him?  
  
Harry nodded silently, and Draco left with a swirl of his robes. Again the scene faded and Snape was standing in the great hall. He looked down, and Draco stared up at him, eyes dead and lifeless. It meant very little to Snape, until he realised that Draco must have been the first person Harry had ever killed. He remembered his first kill, and how terrible he had felt afterwards, and as he did felt himself leave Harry's mind and come face to face with the boy himself.  
  
"Er, Professor? Are you alright? You look very pale. . ."  
  
Snape swallowed. He really had no clue what to do next. After all, he had been sworn to secrecy. But still. . .someone had to know. After all. . .what was he going to do over the next holidays?  
  
"Potter. . .do you have any idea of the repercussions of me seeing this?"  
  
Harry hung his head in a manner which clearly said 'well, you were the one who cast the spell'.  
  
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"  
  
Harry looked at Snape in total amazement.  
  
"Professor, I'm the Golden Boy! My home life is perfect, my school life is perfect. I'm no idiot, I know the whole wizarding world was resting on my shoulders. It would hardly reassure them to know that their saviour couldn't stand up to a fat muggle, would it!"  
  
Snape himself was surprised. He had never thought that. . .that the boy would be anything less than famous Harry Potter.  
  
"Your wellbeing is more important than the public's perception of you" he lied. Harry simply stared at him. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments before Harry turned.  
  
"You have found out what you wanted to know, Professor. May I go back to my room?"  
  
Snape looked at Harry for a long moment, but the boy refused to flinch.  
  
"You expect me to see inside your mind, and then let you go?"  
  
". . .yes!"  
  
Snape shook his head, and gestured towards the sofa. Harry sank into it gratefully; it was more comfortable than the chair and didn't dig into the gashes on his back. Snape sat, looking slightly apprehensive, on the other side of the sofa.  
  
"Would you like some tea?"  
  
Harry almost fainted. Snape, offering him tea?!?  
  
"Umm, no, but I'd really appreciate some black coffee. . ."  
  
Snape nodded and curtly summoned a House Elf who disappeared with a crack and re-appeared almost instantly with pots of tea and coffee and a plate of biscuits. Harry sipped his coffee, relishing in the warm feeling of it disappearing down his throat. Unfortunately his enjoyment was hampered by Snape beginning to question him again.  
  
"Why was Malfoy blackmailing you?"  
  
"Because he doesn't like me."  
  
Harry was satisfied to see a muscle twitch in Snape's jaw. He was inwardly amazed at how nice the man was being, and decided to elaborate.  
  
"He found out certain things about me. . .and threatened to tell the Daily Prophet if I didn't do him favours."  
  
"Yes, I am familiar with the way blackmail works. What I want to know is with what he was blackmailing you."  
  
"Oh, right. Well, he found out about my uncle."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Nothing" said Harry, beginning to sweat slightly. This was more than he had ever meant anyone to know about.  
  
"You said things, in the plural."  
  
Harry shrugged, and Snape sighed.  
  
"Fine, Potter. Go, if you completely refuse to talk to me. But you will need to tell someone."  
  
"Sir. . .I do trust you. It's just been a bit of a shock today."  
  
"Snape nodded.  
  
"Yes, I suppose it has. I will see you after dinner tomorrow night, and we will talk more then."  
  
Harry nodded, suddenly feeling panicked. He didn't want anyone to find out about his cutting. . .it was too scary.  
  
"Try to take care, Harry" said Snape, his voice reassuring. There was a hint of warmth in the black eyes as he showed Harry out.  
  
************************************************* 


	8. Suicidal Harry YAY!

Instead of going back to his dormitory, where he knew he'd get no sleep, he headed up to the astronomy tower. It was still cold, but his cloak did help to prevent him from freezing. Just.  
  
There were steps leading onto the roof of the astronomy tower and Harry ascended them, mind whirling. Why had Snape been so kind? It was all strange, and in a way, too much. He didn't doubt that Snape would find out the truth. . .and he wanted to trust the man. He liked the gentle side he had seen. But he couldn't help feeling like it was a bit soon.  
  
He sat down on the edge of the flat roof, swinging his legs over the side. He had contemplated suicide one night, when he was younger. He had considered it for a long time, finally bursting into hysterical tears. When he had woken up the next morning, and the light was shining on him, and the boys were having a pillow fight, he realised that things would always get better. That belief had managed to keep him going, even through the beatings and the Last Battle.  
  
And why end it all so quickly, when the exquisite torture of blood running down your arms in small trickling rivulets? It was so close. . .  
  
He didn't even realise he'd done it until he felt his muscles relax at last and a feeling of warmth and comfort suffuse his frail body for a few seconds. He ran a hand over his ribs, feeling them even underneath his jumper. A small smile of satisfaction spread over his gaunt face, and then faded as he realised his stomach was feel-able. It existed. And that was enough to piss him off.  
  
Trying to distract himself from the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach, he looked out over the grounds. He could see into the forbidden forest; there was nothing of interest except Bane the centaur picking at some herbs. Hagrid was walking Fang and the boarhound was sniffing on the trail of something. Harry didn't like to think what that something was - or what would happen to it if Fang caught it. The school grounds really were beautiful. The sun was rising and the dew on the Quidditch pitch glistened. There were some things that magic just couldn't beat, and this seemed to be one of them.  
  
The day seemed to be getting off to a good start, even though Harry hadn't slept. That was nothing new. He rose to his feet and stumbled down the stairs, just managing to catch the rail in time. Ron and Hermione were on their way back from breakfast when Harry almost ran straight into them. He had contemplated saying good morning, but they seemed to be well wrapped up in one another. They didn't even notice Harry trailing after them.  
  
The day then got drastically worse. As Harry was walking along, wondering if he was going to collapse because he felt so weak, Colin Creevey caught sight of him.  
  
"Harry! Harry! You excited about the match on Wednesday, Harry?"  
  
Harry gave some non-committal grunt and turned to walk away. However just then a burly Slytherin shoved Colin out of the way. Colin's ever-present camera swung around, cracking Harry on the arm and, to his surprise, Harry fell to the floor. Ron was there in an instant.  
  
"Harry? You alright, mate?"  
  
Harry tried to ignore the ferocious pain in his arm and nodded. Hermione looked at him piercingly.  
  
"You don't look well. . .you're as white as a ghost. I really think you should see madam Pomfrey. . ."  
  
Relieved, Harry made his excuse.  
  
"She's away. Her sister's ill."  
  
"Oh" said Hermione, looking surprised, and a little disappointed that she hadn't known the latest news.  
  
"Well, if you're sure you're alright. . ."  
  
Harry nodded and forced a smile, even though pain was shooting through his arm. He thought he might have broken it, but he was sure it would heal quickly. And if it didn't, then he could try it himself. Unbidden, images of Lockhart's grin as he removed the bones from Harry's arm sprang to mind, and he suppressed a shudder.  
  
It was his left arm that seemed to be broken thankfully; so in transfiguration he was able to take notes without any problems. However at the end of the class, McGonagall called him back.  
  
"Mr Potter. Are you alright?"  
  
Harry nodded, smiling brilliantly up at the Deputy Headmistress, who nodded looking relieved.  
  
"I thought so, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to check. And, of course, you know that you can come and talk to me any time you like."  
  
Harry nodded, his cheeks aching from the novelty of smiling. His head hurt and he had a nasty feeling his stomach would begin to grumble. Thankfully he got away in time, and even had time to go to the bathroom to cut his legs before lunch. One handed, of course.  
  
How he survived the next few lessons he didn't know. He knew for a fact that his arm was broken, though he wasn't quite sure how it could be from just being hit by a camera. Stupid Creevey.  
  
He half considered just going to bed, and not talking to Snape, but realised he would have to. But what was he going to do? Concealing charms? Wouldn't Snape just break through them?  
  
He groaned and rolled off the bed, holding his arm gingerly. He didn't want to cast a concealing charm because he vaguely remembered that they did something odd to broken bones. So, worry gnawing at the pit of his stomach, he descended down into the dungeons and softly rapped on Snape's door. Almost immediately it swung open, and Snape gestured him inside. A fire was burning, the flickering flames making the tapestries on the wall seem to come alive. Harry stared at them, entranced, until Snape put a hand on his shoulder. His soft "Potter" was drowned out by Harry screaming in pain. He sank limply into the chair and bit his lip hard, feeling the blood run into his mouth.  
  
"What is it, Harry? Did I hurt you?"  
  
Snape looked worried to the point of terror.  
  
"No, I'm ok. I think I might have broken my arm earlier. . ."  
  
Snape stared at Harry for a moment, and helped Harry to recline.  
  
"You *think* you *might* have broken your arm? I think if you had you would be fairly sure about it!"  
  
Harry suddenly realised how stupid he had been, and laughed. It sounded false, even to his own ears.  
  
"No, you're right. I was just exaggerating. I don't know what happened, I guess it's just bruised."  
  
He knew there was no point in trying to argue as Snape glared and held out his hand. Mutely Harry extended the arm and for a moment his heart leapt as Snape merely felt through the sleeve of his robe.  
  
"Merlin, it is broken. How did that happen?"  
  
"Creevey knocked into me with that damned camera of his."  
  
Snape snorted, and crouched in front of the boy, gesturing for him to roll up his sleeve. Harry hesitated, and Snape narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Roll up your sleeve, boy, I don't have all day."  
  
Harry gulped, the sound amplified by the cold stone walls, and Snape grasped his sleeve and tugged it firmly, exasperated. It rolled up and Snape dropped Harry's arm in horror and disgust, causing the boy to yelp with pain. He stared at Harry for a long moment, before shutting his eyes for a moment, and then he silently took the young boy's arm again, healing the broken bone. Then he took a seat and regarded Harry for a long moment, still silent.  
  
"Why?"  
  
Harry opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He was shaking like a leaf. . .a very frail leaf. Snape briefly wondered how much the boy weighed, and he was about to ask when Harry suddenly got to his feet and bolted. He sat, amazed for a second, before climbing to his feet and following. He stood silent outside the portrait hole for a few seconds, and was rewarded by the sound of footsteps going up the staircase just around the corner. He followed Harry up several flights of stairs, and quickened his pace once he realised the boy was heading for the Astronomy Tower.  
  
Harry's legs ached, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep running. He slowed slightly on the final flight of stairs, and crawled to the roof of the tower, gulping in the fresh air greedily. He didn't know or care if Snape was following him.  
  
He walked to the edge, as he had so many times before, and slowly sat down. His muscles and joints protested vehemently but he didn't care. He just didn't care about anything. He felt Snape behind him, and tensed.  
  
"Go away."  
  
"No."  
  
"Please."  
  
"No, Harry. I'm not going to leave you on your own."  
  
Harry shivered again. Why was he always so cold?  
  
"Please, Sir. I didn't ask you to follow me, and I'm none of your responsibility."  
  
Snape shook his head, and walked to the edge, surreptitiously casting a softening charm on the ground in case Harry did decide to jump. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and kept it there even when the boy flinched and moved away.  
  
"Will you come down?"  
  
"No."  
  
Snape sat down next to Harry, and took a deep breath. For some reason it was easier to convince the Slytherins not to kill themselves. He didn't know why.  
  
"Please, Harry. You're going to freeze up here."  
  
Silence dragged between the two of them. Harry simply stared down at the grounds while Snape tried to think of something to say.  
  
"Should I go and get Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster then?"  
  
Harry ignored him, and again silence fell. Snape wasn't sure he could ever remember feeling so useless. He was scared about Harry; well, anxious. The boy had grown ridiculously thin, and was a danger to himself. The wind howled and rain began to lash down. Snape shivered, pulling his cloak closer to him, and raised his voice to drown out the wind.  
  
"Harry, I'm serious. If you don't come down soon I'm going to put a body- bind on you and drag you down! You will freeze to death out here!"  
  
Harry didn't turn, but bellowed back,  
  
"It's none of your fucking business, Snape! Why couldn't you have just left me alone? I want to be alone! I want to freeze to death!"  
  
His voice cracked on the last syllable and Snape realised that the foolish boy only wore his shirt and trousers - he must have left his robe in Snape's office. He reached out an arm, and Harry shied away violently, nearly tipping over the edge. Water ran in thick rivulets off his glasses and down his reddened cheeks.  
  
"Leave me alone, Snape, or I'll push you off the edge before I go!"  
  
He didn't know where the words had come from, didn't care. He would do it, if Snape pushed him. Chancing a glance, he saw the concern in the older wizard's eyes, and it snapped something inside him. He got to his feet; saw the relief on Snape's face; and stepped off the edge.  
  
**************************************************  
  
Dumbledore was in his office when Fawkes suddenly screamed and wheeled out of the window at the same moment as a cloudy orb on his desk began to glow blue. Jumping to his feet, he wrenched open the window in time to see a body topple from the Astronomy Tower through the driving rain, and with a gasp of horror he levitated himself out onto the playing field. He could see Poppy and Minerva, who had similar alarms, racing across the pitch. The dark shape which had fallen stood, slightly shakily, and Dumbledore saw another figure levitate down from the Tower and grasp the student.  
  
Harry Potter.  
  
He felt like his stomach had fallen out. Unbidden, anger blazed inside, and he roughly pulled Harry away from Snape.  
  
"What in the nine Hells did you think you were doing?" he hissed furiously, and Harry recoiled. He was shaking violently, and was very pale. Snape laid a calming hand on Dumbledore's shoulder.  
  
"Albus, don't you think he should have some rest?"  
  
"No! I want answers! We have sacrificed a lot for him; I want to know why he has decided to repay our kindness with this!"  
  
Harry visibly shrunk in on himself. He felt like his heart had withered up and died. He was freezing cold, and felt like he was going to cry, except there was an obstruction in his throat. Why HAD he done it? And why did he want to do it again so much?  
  
He couldn't bear to look into any of the teacher's eyes; Snape's unfathomable, Dumbledore's and McGonagall's and Pomfrey's angry and disappointed. He was nothing; just a load of hype. His time had passed with the fall of Voldemort, and now he was just another brick in the proverbial wall.  
  
Someone was guiding him inside; he didn't care. Students stared and whispered; he didn't care. Peeves dropped a bucket of rainwater on him; he didn't care. Why should he? There was just a painful emptiness, a vacuum inside him.  
  
He felt a potion being forced down his throat, and he was laid down on a bed. Then unconsciousness claimed him.  
  
******************************************** 


	9. Hiding

**It was so cool, I had the EASIEST Latin exam ever today (talk about cursing myself!) and the main character on the translation was Severus! And he was smart and kind. Eeee!!!**  
  
  
  
Snape tried very hard not to glare at Dumbledore. He admired the man; really, he did. A great wizard, and normally very good with the students. But times like these, when it really mattered, Albus could be amazingly short sighted.  
  
"Headmaster, I'm sure he did not do it to spite either you or Minerva. In fact, his loved ones were probably the furthest from his mind!"  
  
"What is that supposed to mean, Severus?"  
  
Albus' tone was sharp, but Snape could see the concern in his eyes. Blind he may be sometimes, but cruel? Never.  
  
"Albus. Let me be frank. The boy has had the hopes and expectations of the wizarding world placed on his shoulders since he was born. It's what his whole life has revolved around. Everyone has always been lenient to him - yes, I am perfectly well aware you gave him that damned cloak - and he has grown used to it. Who wouldn't? However Voldemort is dead, gone for good. What does he have now, Albus? He is useless, in his eyes. Already he has seen how a tool can be so quickly dropped; he is now no different from any other student. But he has problems that no student should have to face, let alone while they should be enjoying their childhood."  
  
Dumbledore was silent for a moment, and Snape continued.  
  
"The boy has blood on his hands, and on his conscience. Draco Malfoy's blood; deservedly spilt, but none the less, he feels like a murderer. No child should have to feel like a bringer of death! He used the Killing Curse - he should be in Azkaban. But he knows, as well as you and I and the Ministry, that the Great Harry Potter must have had a good reason, and so is innocent. He's hurting because suddenly his whole purpose for living has been ripped away. Everything was engineered; his friends sought him because he was the famous Harry Potter, and his enemies attacked him for the same reason. Now he's just plain Harry; what does he have? He's a new person with an old life."  
  
Snape took a deep breath and looked Dumbledore in the eye.  
  
"He doesn't know who he is any more. He doesn't know what is good and what is evil, and where he stands in between to two. He's lost, Albus, and tonight he tried to take the only way out he knew of."  
  
"But why didn't he come and talk to someone? Me, or Minerva, or Sirius?"  
  
Snape felt pity, looking at the confusion in Dumbledore's eyes.  
  
"I suppose he thought you would think less of him; see the once invincible boy had a fault. He's been strong alone all these years, how can he start to lean on people now, now the danger's gone?"  
  
"Severus, are you talking on Harry's behalf or your own?"  
  
Snape's lip curled into a sneer, which he hastily checked when he remembered that he was talking to the Headmaster.  
  
"My circumstances are completely different to Potter's. I chose my role. His was thrust upon him before he was even old enough to walk. I deserved mine, and I fail to see what he could have done to incur the wrath of the gods."  
  
"I've let him down, haven't I?"  
  
Snape sighed, and rubbed his nose tiredly.  
  
"I wouldn't say that. He knew he could come to you any time he wanted. He just chose not to. And it's understandable that he cannot be treated specially now Voldemort is defeated; all I'm saying is that it must be hard for him to suddenly change."  
  
"Should I see him, or leave him alone? And what about Sirius?"  
  
"Black? I think you should set the Dementors on him."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes regained a little of their former twinkle.  
  
"That would only be for your benefit, Severus."  
  
"Mankind would thank me in twenty years if Black never procreated."  
  
There was silence as Dumbledore seemed to be trying not to laugh, but then his face lost all traces of hilarity and his turned to Snape.  
  
"What can I do to help him?"  
  
"I don't understand why you're asking me, Albus. He's no responsibility of mine!"  
  
"Yes, Severus, but we all know how many of your Slytherins have had problems like this. You are certainly the most knowledgeable of all our staff, and I certainly don't want St. Mungo's to get involved."  
  
"I agree, that mental hospital would not be a benefit to Harry, but the boy is not in Slytherin. There is a reason that the Hat sorts students into different houses. Why are you smirking like that?"  
  
"Harry forced the Hat to put him in Gryffindor. It was originally convinced he would be best in Slytherin."  
  
Afterwards, Snape thought he should have known. It was just typical of Ha. . .Pot. . .Ha. . .stupid boy.  
  
*****************************************  
  
Harry lay staring at the ceiling. He had just had a silent nightmare. It was his name for a nightmare that might have had him awake and screaming if he hadn't conditioned himself not to scream in the night. Vernon hated it when he screamed.  
  
But he wasn't with Vernon now. He was at Hogwarts. . .and he was in the hospital. . .why? He had. . .  
  
"Oh shit!" he hissed. Any second Dumbledore was bound to come in and ask him lots of difficult questions, and Snape would have told him everything, and Harry didn't want anyone to know. . .  
  
He silently got up, wincing at the stiffness in his legs, and moved to the window. Dawn was breaking; he'd have to move quickly. He didn't really know where he was going, but he was determined that he wouldn't stay here. The door creaked as he opened it, and he froze with his clammy hands on the handle until he heard Pomfrey's even breathing from the next room. Then he slid out, wondering if he could sneak into the Gryffindor tower without being noticed. Doubtful, this near to dawn.  
  
The Astronomy Tower was too risky; he would just be found again. He didn't quite know why he was hiding; he just wanted to be alone, and who would understand that? Eventually he decided to get in and out of the Dormitory as quickly as possible, and then go and find somewhere to hide with his invisibility cloak when he was dressed. He was so cold!  
  
Thankfully he managed to sneak in without being noticed, and quickly grabbed his invisibility cloak and some clothes. Then he threw the cloak over head and changed under it in the bathroom, knowing that he was invisible to everyone else. After that, it was simple. He slipped out of the Portrait Hole at the same time as some Second-years and turned to the one place he knew nobody would ever look for him. The Divination room.  
  
For once, the fumes seemed to clear his head. Trelawny was in the staff room, and naturally the place was deserted. Harry sat on a comfy chair and drew his knees up to his chest, wincing as they clicked. Again, Snape's words came back to him. 'You resemble them. . .' he resembled them. Those cursed Dursleys. Snape just felt guilty. Didn't care about Harry, only about himself.  
  
He could leave Hogwarts. There wasn't much point in him staying, after all. What use was one more wizard? And attempted suicide on his record would bar him from almost any job that he might be interested in - flying, or being an Auror. With a sickening lurch he realised that he would become the person he had always fought against becoming; a flat, grey person in a dead- end job.  
  
Despair washed over him in waves, and he leaned back against the chair. It felt soft and gentle against his aching back. He briefly wished that he had allowed Snape to heal it. He knew there would be scars, and he had no idea how to heal himself. Would Snape come after him? Harry knew that Snape was the only one who might understand. Maybe everyone meant well, but he didn't care about well-meaning. He was tired of it. So. . .tired. . .  
  
His mouth stretched into a yawn and he allowed his eyes to drift shut as the fumes pervaded his nose.  
  
**************************************  
  
All hell had broken loose when it had been discovered that Harry had left the Infirmary. The teachers were informed, but Harry was nowhere to be found. Eventually, the only staff available who weren't in lessons were Professors Trelawny and Snape. Having combed the Dungeons, Trelawny sighed dramatically and announced that she would gave into her crystal ball to see if the fates would show her where the poor boy was.  
  
And that was when Snape realised where Harry was.  
  
The one place nobody would even consider looking; the Divination room. He sprinted up the stairs, and flung open the door to find. . .nothing. Disappointed, he turned to leave. He had been so sure that he would find Harry there. Then something caught his notice. The smoke rising from an incense stick in the corner was being blown in the opposite direction to the rest of the sticks. He moved over to the chair and heard very soft, even breathing. With a smirk he pulled at the cloak off the boy, and watched terror flit across those amazingly green eyes. Harry looked like a cat, curled up in the chair. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Snape, who wondered if the boy was about to hiss.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
Snape regarded Harry.  
  
"What do you think I want? You tried to throw yourself off the highest tower, and then disappeared. Didn't you think that the headmaster would have everyone out looking for you?"  
  
Harry sneered in a fairly admirable semblance of Snape's own, and plucked at his invisibility cloak.  
  
"Would I have brought this if I thought nobody would be looking for me?"  
  
Snape was taken aback by the boy's frank admission, but he really wanted to get him out of the divination room before Trelawny came back.  
  
"Will you come with me?" he asked, holding out a hand. Harry looked calculatingly at him for a moment, and nodded shortly.  
  
"I haven't got anywhere else to go, have I?" he said darkly, and stumbled to his feet without Snape's hand. 


	10. St Mungos

Harry trailed despondently behind Snape. He really was in trouble now. But then again the damned man always seemed to be able to find him. No matter where he ran, no matter how hard he tried to escape, that damned professor would be there.  
  
"Come on, I don't have all day" snapped Snape, swirling down the corridor. In truth, he did. He knew that seeing any other teacher would be disastrous for Harry, and so had got permission from the headmaster to have harry stay with him for a while. If Dumbledore had been surprised, he didn't show it; Minerva, on the other hand, had been livid.  
  
"Stay with Severus?" she had shrilled indignantly, "He would be far safer in his own House. We Gryffindors look after each other." To which Snape had icily replied,  
  
"Yes, he found your tender care so acceptable he felt like throwing himself out of the Astronomy Tower"  
  
Dumbledore looked sternly at Snape, but said nothing. McGonagall didn't seem to be able to think of a smart comeback, and just sneered. She should take lessons, reflected Snape. That was a pathetic excuse for a sneer.  
  
However he had volunteered to search for the boy, and had asked Dumbledore to cancel his lessons for the day.  
  
The problem, he thought, sweeping down the corridor and sending such a spiteful glare at a 4th year Ravenclaw that she actually screamed,was that he didn't know how to get through to Harry. The boy seemed to have hidden himself behind the Harry Potter persona - and he had done it well. Snape could tell a lie from a mile off, but it had taken him so long to see the truth behind Potter. Now he felt guilty about it, though he had no idea why.  
  
Suddenly he realised that behind him was silent. Too silent. The sound of footsteps, however light, had gone. Cursing himself for losing the boy, Snape turned around and retraced his footsteps to the nearest juncture. He was just about to take a guess at which way to turn when he saw a faint shape on the floor, slumped painfully against a wall. He swiftly walked over and crouched down.  
  
"Enervate"  
  
Harry's eyes opened lazily and he blinked slowly before flinching slightly, and pressing himself against the wall.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, I just. . .couldn't walk any further."  
  
"And it didn't occur to you to tell me?"  
  
Harry cast his eyes down.  
  
"I'm sorry sir, I thought you'd be angry with me. I was going to sit for a moment and then catch up."  
  
Snape's face softened and he helped Harry to his feet. The boy was as shaky as a new-born colt and could barely keep his feet. Now really concerned, Snape made to try and steady him, but Harry jerked away, stumbling into the wall with a moan and sliding down to the bottom.  
  
Near frantic with worry, Snape cast an invisibility charm on Harry and lifted him gently into his arms, and quickly made his way down to the Dungeons. When he was there he gently laid Harry on his sofa and stroked the boy's limp hair off his forehead. A briefly whispered 'Massus' confirmed his suspicions that Harry was almost lethally underweight, at a mere 5stone. There was only one thing he could do.  
  
"Poppy!"  
  
The medi-witch appeared and nearly fainted.  
  
"Good Merlin, what happened?"  
  
"His concealing charms came off."  
  
"He must barely weigh. . ."  
  
"5stone. We need to get him to St Mungo's."  
  
Pomfrey nodded, her usually jovial face tight with anxiety, and Snape realised they did genuinely care about Harry. They just had a useless way of showing it.  
  
Within 10 minutes, Harry had been transferred to a high security unit in St Mungo's. Snape sat with him, wondering why on earth he had become so worried about this boy. Thank Merlin Albus had managed to pull some strings with various people to make sure Harry was surrounded by true professionals who just wanted to get him hooked up to some odd device which seemed to be sending food into his veins, and not to merely gape at the Boy-Who-Had- Lived and then Fallen. The boy looked so small, and pale, his face almost as white as the starched sheets. The scar, and shadows under his eyes, stood out lividly. He really did look like death warmed up.  
  
He had been forced to tell Albus everything he knew. Would Harry ever forgive him? Why did he care? On the other hand, Albus had understood, and given Snape a free reign to look after Harry. And he was paying the Dursleys a little visit today. Had he not actually experienced Harry's memories, Snape might have felt sorry for the Muggles. Dumbledore was a very strong wizard, and not a little terrifying when moved to anger.  
  
Absently, he took one of Harry's bony hands and began to stroke it.  
  
"I might as well tell you now that Dumbledore knows everything, Harry. I don't believe in lying, so I won't tell you he forced me to speak. He. . .asked me in a way that I could not refuse. I know that it was betraying your trust, Harry, but you needed medical attention. If it helps at all I didn't tell him about your arms. You need to tell someone, but I understand that it's your own decision. He's not cross with you now that he understands, he's just furious with those revolting Muggles. In fact I think he was going to visit them today."  
  
He paused, looking down at the gaunt face, and resumed his gentle stroking.  
  
"And nobody else knows, and they won't until you want to tell them. Not Black, nor Lupin, or McGonagall, Granger or Weasley. It's just between you and me; Dumbledore has agreed to stay uninvolved until you want him to be. You see, you're in charge here. Whatever happens, within reason, is up to you. I know that I put you here, and that I told Dumbledore, but I had to. Whatever you may think, I refuse to accept that your life isn't worth living, and I will endeavour to keep you alive for as long as I can. Although when Voldemort died, I was supposed to have finished with that."  
  
Allowing himself a dark chuckle, he lapsed back into silence, for a few moments. Unfortunately, the boy seemed to make Snape babble even when he was unconscious.  
  
"I don't know why I'm here, really. I should have gone straight to Minerva and Albus the moment I heard about the abuse. It was unprofessional of me to keep it myself. But I think maybe I understand you better than they do. I think when I first met you, I was too eager to see something that wasn't there. Just like everyone else. But everyone else wanted to see a saviour; a light. I wanted to see a stubborn, spoilt little boy. We were all blinded, but I suppose it was easier for me to see through the walls. Maybe it's because it's hard for people to see a hero fall, or maybe it's because I'm used to my Slytherins. You know, you are very Slytherin. I don't believe it's a trait picked up from either of your parents, because they were Gryffindors to the bone. But then again you had to have some Slytherin traits growing up in that awful home.  
  
'You're never going to have to go back there again. I don't know what Albus is going to do to those damned Muggles but I would imagine it won't be pleasant. You know, everyone does care about you. They just have a hard time showing it in the right way. I used to think they saw you as a tool, but I don't think they do, really. It's just that you have been for so long, it's hard for them to change their opinions. They do genuinely care, though. They are all afraid for you. And. . .so am I, though I don't quite understand why. I've even got Albus to cancel my classes until you are better so I can stay here. It's the first time I've ever cancelled a class, but it was worth it for the expression on Minerva's face. I thought she was going to faint."  
  
He smirked at the memory and reverently ran his hand over Harry's scar.  
  
"Albus will be here in a minute, and I dread to think what he'll assume if he sees me talking to an unconscious boy. So I'll stop babbling inanely and let your mind get some rest."  
  
He sat in silence, watching the skinny chest rise and fall with small breaths, until he heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor, and then the sound of a door opening. Albus came in behind him, and laid a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"How is he?"  
  
"I don't know. He hasn't woken up since we got here. The doctors say it's very serious. They can get him back to a non-fatal weight, but there's no guarantee he won't just starve it all off himself. How are those revolting relatives?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled grimly, the sight almost as terrifying as Voldemort.  
  
"They will not be giving him any trouble."  
  
Snape almost winced at the words.  
  
"What did you do to them?"  
  
Albus moved next to Harry.  
  
"He's so frail. . .how could we have let this happen?"  
  
Ignoring the fact that Dumbledore had completely changed tack, Snape shrugged.  
  
"He hid it well. As you said, he would have done well in Slytherin."  
  
Dumbledore sighed deeply, and Snape could see how much this affected him.  
  
"I wish I could stay for longer, but I must return to Hogwarts. Please let me know if there is any change in his condition. How long will you stay, Severus?"  
  
"Until he wakes up, and sends me away" - with a touch of wry humour - "I can stay in an adjacent room."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, checked that ridiculous watch of his, and stepped into the flames to travel back to Hogwarts.  
  
****************************************  
  
Snape woke up the next morning in the chair next to Harry's bed. The teenager looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a civil smile.  
  
"Good morning, professor Snape, you COMPLETE AND UTTER BASTARD! Why the Hell am I here? What did you do?"  
  
His face softened into a kicked-puppy look that by all rights should have annoyed Snape, but instead made him feel like he had crawled out of a gutter.  
  
"Why did you do that to me? You promised! I thought you were the one person who would do the sensible thing."  
  
His green eyes fixed on Snape, begging him for an explanation. Snape swallowed.  
  
"Harry, I'm sorry. You collapsed on the way down from the Divination room. I couldn't wake you, and when I finally did you fainted again. I carried you to my chambers and called Pomfrey just as your concealing charms fell. We had no other choice, Harry - you would have died."  
  
Harry looked at him, amazement written in his eyes.  
  
"I could have died? Really? Wow, I never considered that when I JUMPED OFF THE ASTRONOMY TOWER!"  
  
Snape flinched at the words, and then realised that Harry was crying. He reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, but Harry pulled away roughly.  
  
"Don't touch me! Leave me alone!"  
  
Snape pulled back, concern in his dark eyes.  
  
"Harry, I tried to do what was best. I'm sorry you had to come here."  
  
When he realised Harry wasn't going to respond to him, he moved into the next room to allow the doctor to examine Harry and watched the boy through a one way window he had conjured into the wall. He lay flat and motionless, his shoulder-blades sticking out from the sheets, and his eyes gazing sightlessly ahead.  
  
Allowing a frown to crease his forehead, Snape flooed to Hogwarts. Dumbledore was waiting for him when he stumbled out of the fireplace.  
  
"How is he?"  
  
"He woke up. I think it would be safe to say that he's not too happy with me."  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"Pretty much what I was expecting. He was furious to be in the Hospital, and told me so. I thought that my presence was doing more harm than good so I came back."  
  
"All the same, Severus, I think you should. . ."  
  
Whatever Albus thought Severus should do was lost as a Medi-witch's face suddenly appeared in the flames.  
  
"Professors Dumbledore and Snape? We need you urgently at the Hospital. Mr Potter has just suffered a heart attack."  
  
  
  
**Mwahahahaha how's that for a cliffie? -smirks evilly- I may kill Harry. It's tempting. But then again I may not. Who knows where this is going? Who knows if it is even going anywhere? Ooh, wait, breakthrough. . .it isn't!** 


	11. Leaving St Mungos

"What happened?" Demanded Snape as soon as they got into St Mungos.  
  
"After you had left, he lay still for several minutes and ignored everyone. Then a nurse tried to take off his shirt to change his needle and he went berserk! He ripped out the needle which caused extensive bleeding, and a combination of shock and blood loss made his heart start fibrillating."  
  
Dumbledore looked confused, and then caught sight of Snape's guilty face and fixed him with a look that said there would be serious talking later. Snape squirmed.  
  
"Can we see him?"  
  
"No, I'm afraid not. He's in a very serious condition, and the medi-witches are still working on him."  
  
Albus nodded.  
  
"In that case, Severus and I will go and have a little talk. Please inform us should there be any change in Harry's condition."  
  
The nurse nodded and then disappeared, and Dumbledore took Snape's arm in a not-too-gentle grasp and pulled him towards the fireplace.  
  
When they had arrived in Dumbledore's office, he showed Snape into a seat and didn't even offer him a cup of tea, biscuit or sweet.  
  
"What is it that you are not telling me, Severus?"  
  
Snape shook his head.  
  
"It is a matter solely between Mr Potter and myself. I am sorry that I have nothing to tell you."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes hardened, but Snape just looked away. Finally he sighed.  
  
"Albus, if I could tell you then I would, but I simply don't know enough about it. And I think that if I told anyone and Harry found out, he would never trust again."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, and took his glasses off to rub his eyes.  
  
"I really have no idea what to do, Severus. I feel like in some way it is my fault."  
  
"No, it isn't, Albus. And if you think trying to make me feel guilty enough to tell you his secrets will work, then may I remind you that I used to be a Death Eater, and therefore have no feelings remotely resembling guilt?"  
  
"Ah, but you feel guilty about Harry. I can see it in your expression."  
  
Snape's face hardened and his eyes grew flat and emotionless. Albus knew he had overstepped a fine line.  
  
"Do not presume to know anything about me or my feelings" - delivered in an icy tone - and with a swirl of robes, he disappeared, probably down to the dungeons.  
  
*******************************************  
  
Harry opened his eyes cautiously. He was in a hospital. It seemed familiar. . .  
  
He remembered.  
  
He almost regretted Snape leaving. The man had hurt him badly by putting him into the hospital when Harry had trusted him, but he had obviously cared enough to stay. And now he probably hated Harry for all the things he'd said.  
  
He had turned over, wondering vaguely about trying to sleep, when a nurse had approached and begun to take off his shirt. He realised that the tube had been going directly into his stomach, and that he hadn't had his clothes removed. Panicked at the thought of anyone else seeing his body, which looked like a canvas liberally splashed with red and black paints - Snape knew, and that was bad enough - he had fought desperately, hardly feeling the needle rip itself out of his skin. However when he saw the fresh blood soaking his sheets he felt sick, and his chest constricted. There was suddenly a burning pain shooting down his arm and through his chest; in the background alarms flashed noisily.  
  
And then he succumbed to the darkness.  
  
He must have slept for a while. When he woke up, he felt drained, but the pain had gone and the alarms had stopped. It couldn't have been Voldemort, because his scar didn't hurt. Oh, and Voldemort was dead. Precious few Death Eaters were left; nothing like enough to launch any sort of attack. The he remembered. Shamed, he put his head in his hands, and the movement obviously alerted someone because he heard footsteps approaching.  
  
Oh god, Snape. What must the man think of him? Harry had been so horrible, so rude, and now Snape would hate him and everybody would hate him and he would be all alone. . .  
  
Ignoring the persistent voices, Harry turned away - as far as he could, without pulling the needle out again - and kept his face covered.  
  
"Go away. I don't want you here."  
  
"But. . ."  
  
"GO AWAY!"  
  
There was a resigned sigh.  
  
"Mr Potter, I just need to take some readings on your blood pressure to check everything is alright. When it is, if you can agree to begin eating again, you will be discharged and sent back to Hogwarts where the teachers will be taking care of you. Professor Dumbledore says that due to unforeseen circumstances you will be staying at Hogwarts over the summer as well; apparently your Muggle relatives have taken a long holiday."  
  
He wasn't listening after he heard the key words.  
  
"Discharged. . .eating. ."  
  
Resignedly he accepted the bowl of soup offered, much to the nurse's surprise. He forced a few mouthfuls down. He could lose it later. Why couldn't they understand that he just wanted to lose enough weight to still comparisons between himself and Dudley?  
  
Before he knew it the bowl was finished and the nurse took it away with a pleased look.  
  
"Well done, Mr Potter. You have a visitor, if you wish to see him."  
  
"No thank you" replied Harry as politely as he could. "I'm a bit tired right now. Thank you for the soup."  
  
The nurse smiled at him.  
  
"My pleasure, Mr Potter. Will you be wanting to see professor Snape later? I'm sure we could waive the visiting rules. . ."  
  
"No thanks" replied Harry, a bit more sharply this time. He turned away and fell asleep again.  
  
**************************************  
  
Sleep was never kind to him. Tonight was no exception. He awoke shortly after he had fallen asleep, shaking and sweating after another horrendous nightmare. It was everything he was afraid of; pale, swollen skin, oily like blubber. And his scar stood out livid on his forehead. Cedric and thousands of other people he had seen die tormented him and cursed him. It was the same as every night.  
  
Snape, feeling unwelcome at the hospital, also lay awake. He wasn't worried about the stupid boy. He wasn't! Of course not. There was a perfectly good reason why he couldn't sleep. And why visions of the scarred arms flashed before his eyes. And why his fingers could feel those ribs jutting out. . .NO! He did NOT care.  
  
*********************************************  
  
Harry soon became quite popular at the hospital. He thanked his Slytherin traits for allowing him the foresight to make up some good lies about why he had starved.  
  
"Well, it's a bit embarrassing *blush* but I was having some arguments with my friends and I wanted people to notice me. It was just a childish thing, I think *hang head* and I know it was very stupid. But I felt so awful, and I feel so much better now *grateful smile* that I definitely won't try it again."  
  
It worked like a charm. The staff 'ooh-ed' and 'aah-ed' and generally left him alone after that. When he had put on a full 2 stone (2 stone! He felt awful!) he was released, and returned to Hogwarts. As soon as he got back, Dumbledore called him into his office.  
  
"How do you feel, Harry?"  
  
"Fine, thank you sir. My heart's still a bit fragile, so I'm not allowed to do Quidditch or rush around."  
  
He produced a note which Dumbledore read. He then smiled at Harry.  
  
"Yes, I see no problem in that. Perhaps you could help to coach the Gryffindor team?"  
  
It was a kind thought, but Harry's heart wasn't in the idea. It would hurt bitterly to watch the team train without him, knowing that the freedom they had was denied to him. Anger surged over him, and with elation he realised that he was free to cut himself again. His skin was crawling with the sensation o healing skin, and he didn't like it. Dumbledore jerked him out of his thoughts.  
  
"Also, I will inform the teachers that you are to be excused if you arrive late to any classes. You must take care, Harry. We were so very worried about you. . ."  
  
Harry nodded and smiled apologetically. He was really getting rather good at fooling people.  
  
"Ah well, it's nearly lunchtime now, so why don't you accompany me to the Dining Room?"  
  
It was an order rather than a request, and Harry realised it was a precaution to prevent him from not eating. Too tired to argue, he followed Dumbledore downstairs and sat with the other Gryffindors, aware of the awkward silences and the many pairs of eyes fixed on him from the Staff Table.  
  
One potato couldn't hurt, could it? No butter. And a little meat, and some healthy vegetables. He could almost feel Dumbledore's approval. Ron was staring at him, probably wondering where he'd been for so long. Suddenly Harry didn't want to go back to the Common Room, didn't want to be interrogated. He hastily finished his dinner, nodded politely to Dumbledore, and left the Hall with some Ravenclaw second-years who looked thoroughly awed in his presence.  
  
All the eyes in the room left him as he exited. All except two. . .two deep black eyes which looked like holes, but were just a safe place to hide secrets.  
  
***************************************  
  
He didn't know where his feet were leading him. He found himself further and further away from the main school, until he finally arrived at Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He automatically moved to a stall and stared into the water, looking at the slight rippling of the ever moving surface. There was too much magic in Hogwarts for anything to stay still, anywhere.  
  
Still automatically, he reached for his wand and transfigured a splinter which still remained from their run in in the first year into a knife. The shining blade ran smoothly across his arm, releasing a thin flow of crimson blood, which soon thickened into a steady flow which dripped off his arm and landed with regular 'plop's on the floor. Stupid, really, for any of them to think he could ever be alright. Stupid for them even to try and understand.  
  
The blood emerged from several cuts now. Not too deep; that was forbidden. Enough to soak his arm and hand, making him look like he had been skinned alive. With a dark smile he raised his wrist to his lips and lapped up the blood. And then, as though he had intended to do it from the start, he plunged several fingers down his throat, feeling his stomach lurch at the pressure of his fingers and at the taste of blood, and vomited violently into the toilet.  
  
It had started; or maybe it had just never stopped.  
  
  
  
********************************************  
  
At last! I did it! Wooh! Ahem, sorry. Slightly hyper and depressed simultaneously, so this is a depressing chapter. And guess what? For the next chapter you get another poetic interlude written by me! I'd really appreciate reviews on that especially. Thanks! 


	12. Conversations and Fights

Harry leaned against the wall in satisfaction, and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Then he wished he hadn't. There was vomit around his mouth, and his cheeks had become fat. Sadistic hospital staff. . .probably wanted to turn him into a carbon copy of Dudley.  
  
After a quick wash and bandage, he headed up to the library, having been given the day off to sort his belongings out. A breath-freshening charm was the first stop. . .once that was perfected, Harry felt much more relaxed. That is, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Mr Potter, a word if you please."  
  
Snape didn't phrase it as a question, so Harry unhappily complied, following the Professor down to the Dungeons. Snape actually said the password loudly enough for Harry to hear, but Harry didn't bother remembering. If Snape thought there was ANY chance he would ever trust anyone again, he was seriously mistaken.  
  
Harry sat in the comfy chair, and Snape looked at him.  
  
"How are you?"  
  
"I'm fine thank you sir. I have to be careful because my heart's still a bit weak, but overall I feel fine. Thank you."  
  
Snape narrowed his eyes.  
  
"I don't believe you."  
  
Harry's expression remained bland, though he was fighting his temper.  
  
"I want an answer, Mr Potter. A truthful answer."  
  
"I gave you one" still in a tone that was not quite dead, but had no life in it either.  
  
"I am head of Slytherin, Potter. Kindly credit me with some sense."  
  
Harry's already short temper snapped.  
  
"As Head of Slytherin, it's not your place to care then, professor. I am sure the rest of the school will look after me just fine, so why don't you concentrate on matters that actually concern you?"  
  
His tone could have frozen ice, and almost made Snape flinch.  
  
"I will not be spoken to like that in my own office!"  
  
"Of course, sir" said Harry, getting up. He gave a sharp nod, and left the room before Snape could blink. However as Harry rounded the corner his stomach rumbled loudly, and Snape looked quickly at him. The cheeks were red. . .but he had seen Harry eating at lunchtime. Not much. . .but still. . .  
  
Head whirling, he stared into the fire and considered what to do about the prickly Gryffindor who really was none of his business.  
  
**************************************  
  
Oh Merlin, what have I done? wailed Harry's conscience. I was so horrible to him, and he cared!  
  
--No he didn't-replied Harry cynicism. -He just didn't want you dying on him. Self-preservation, you know. Dumbledore would have been furious if you'd died.-  
  
Dumbledore does care! They all do!  
  
--Stop whinging, piss off and don't bother coming back-  
  
You'll destroy yourself. . .  
  
-- Which part of 'piss off' did you not understand? --  
  
I'm your conscience!  
  
-- So am I. The pay sucks. Piss off! --  
  
The argument between Harry's two consciences was abruptly disturbed as a head poked around his curtains.  
  
"Oh, hi Harry. Feeling better?" asked Dean. Harry nodded absently, and resumed his staring into space.  
  
"You know we've got double potions next? Snape'll skin you alive if you're late. . ."  
  
"Fuck Snape."  
  
Dean whistled, eyes wide.  
  
"Harry? Are you feeling alright?"  
  
"Yes thank you. But honestly, who'd go to potions from choice?"  
  
Dean laughed and tugged Harry's arm. Harry tried very hard not to yelp as he felt some cuts begin to bleed again.  
  
"You're a good guy, Harry. I don't want to see you get killed by Snape."  
  
Harry smiled at the words. . .and it almost felt real.  
  
**********************************************  
  
If Snape was in the slightest bit surprised to see Harry, it didn't show. Since the fall of Voldemort, explained Dean, he was much less unfair. Still very harsh, and apparently he took as many points from Gryffindors, but he would help if help was asked for, and didn't penalise students for no reason. The class was actually quite interesting. Harry found the potion well within his capabilities and completed it. He had also researched a local silencing spell, which was a variation on a tongue-tying curse. It silenced his growling stomach completely, although he still suffered the odd feeling of the unused acids fizzing and bubbling.  
  
So from Harry's point of view, the lesson went quite well. Snape, however, didn't enjoy it. Harry was nearing a normal size, although he was still slender. Though Snape had a high level listening charm on the classroom, mainly to hear students conversations, he heard no sounds from Harry. But he had a feeling something was wrong. He contemplated holding Harry back after the lesson, but decided that it would do more harm than good. The boy left quickly, with a group of other Gryffindors, and they disappeared from sight. Despite his concern, Snape was gratified to see that Harry's potion was perfect, and he awarded 2 anonymous points to Gryffindor for it.  
  
****************************************************  
  
Harry was no idiot. Well, he was, in one respect, but he couldn't see that. He had seen the look on Snape's face as he watched Harry eat. The annoying man suspected something. So at dinner, Harry waited until the end of the meal before he ate. Nobody noticed that he didn't have very much food. . .he ate slowly, and stayed out of the conversations for the most part. He left casually with the rest of the Gryffindors, being very careful not to hurry. A quick glance at the Staff table revealed Snape looking greatly relieved.  
  
He remained in the Common Room for a few moments before pretending he had forgotten his Charms book from his dormitory. He hastened up the stairs, and went into the bathroom, silencing the cubicle he wanted to use. Smiling slightly at his cunning, he proceeded to push a finger down his throat. However the smile quickly faded as nothing happened. Another finger followed the first, and he just coughed, feeling the smooth muscles pulse around his fingers. This was no use! How had he done it earlier? Blood. . .  
  
He barely felt anything now from the deepest cuts. It was a tolerance he had built up. But the flow of blood could still give him some pleasure; some form of release. It was the taste that pushed him over the edge, assaulting his senses. Again, a bloody finger pressed down, and he threw up the little that he had eaten. Suddenly he was curious, and transfigured a mirror in place of the door.  
  
He stood topless. His ribs had virtually disappeared underneath a layer of fat, and he was suddenly reminded of when his Aunt had taken Dudley to a circus. There had been mirrors which reflected opposites back, so Dudley had appeared slender and Harry obese. He shuddered at the memory, and threw up without even meaning to. His throat burned, rubbed raw by probing fingers. Some cuts had healed now, leaving raised pink ridges. Others bled at Dean's previous pull, and some were growing black and scabbed over. He liked them red best. Open, and stabbing with pain like a thousand knives. It felt right. It felt like punishment. Punishment for becoming so fat.  
  
"Harry? You there?"  
  
Harry gasped; he hadn't realised he'd been such a long time. Quickly removing the spells preventing anyone from entering his sanctuary, he yelled back,  
  
"2 seconds!" and hastily wrapped his arms in bandages.  
  
When he came out, Dean was gone, and he summoned his book wandlessly and walked into the Common Room. Dean smiled and gestured to a chair, which Harry took. Harry was just explaining to Dean why exactly you should use a swish and flick for 'Wingardium Leviosa' but a jab for 'Occulis Reparo' when an owl flew in through the window. Harry frowned and opened the letter, his face rapidly turning the colour of old porridge.  
  
"Harry,  
  
Believe me, if I could come and wring your neck then I would. But I can't. I can't even send a damn Howler because I'm in the middle of nowhere. But do you have any idea how cross and disappointed I am? I got Dumbledore's letter last night, and wrote back to him immediately. But you? I just don't know what to say! Do you really value me, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, that little? And your parents. . .they died for you, Harry, and you just throw it away for no goddam reason? I did NOT spend all these years first escaping from Azkaban and then hiding from Dementors just to have you decide to jump off the bloody Astronomy Tower! You couldn't possibly understand true depression. Stunts like that just make me so angry. Merlin, Harry, do you hate me so much?  
  
As your Godfather I have the choice of your punishment; you will leave the Quidditch team, and have nothing to do with it, and you will also be banned from Hogsmeade trips. I suppose I'll see you in time. Don't bother writing back.  
  
Snuffles."  
  
Harry felt bile rise in his throat for the fourth time that day. Ignoring Dean's concerned questioning, he quickly rose and bolted to the toilet where he threw up again, not bothering with silencing spells this time. He didn't care when he heard footsteps behind him. Didn't care when a fist slammed into the back of his head, sending his forehead crashing into the toilet basin. Didn't care that it was his ex-best friend.  
  
A laugh. Bitter.  
  
"Great Harry Potter. Sirius told me everything, you know. He gave me permission to tell everyone, as soon as you'd received his letter. What a tragedy. . ."  
  
"Go away, Ron". Harry was proud that his voice held out that well. Everything was swimming in front of him. A kick to the ribs; he could cope with this. He wouldn't think of Vernon or Dudley. Would not. Would not cry. He retched again, wondering if his throat would actually crumble. It felt like it could. He wouldn't give Ron the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He just had dust in his eyes, that was all.  
  
"W-Why are you doing this, Ron?"  
  
"I hate you. I'm jealous. And now it doesn't matter what happens to you, because we all know that you've outlived your purpose. Nobody cares what happens to you now."  
  
Harry hung his head. He knew it was true. He just wanted it be over.  
  
And then it was. Just as his ears had started to roar from the pain shooting through his ribs, the foot stopped and there was the sound of shouting and scuffling. Then a shouted 'Stupefy', and hasty steps.  
  
"Harry? Harry! Can you hear me?"  
  
Harry blinked at Dean.  
  
"I'm fine. You just misunderstood! We were only playing!"  
  
Dean frowned at Harry.  
  
"Playing?" Harry's masochistic side took over, and he nodded with a small smile.  
  
"Playing. I know we're a bit old, but it's been a long time since we saw each other"  
  
Dean didn't look convinced, but he released Ron.  
  
"You are sure?"  
  
Harry nodded cheerfully, and then sent an unidentifiable expression to Ron when Dean had left.  
  
"Do what you like, Weasley. I don't care anymore, and I know concealing charms."  
  
The look of amazement on Ron's face was almost worth the pain.  
  
*************************************  
  
Harry had been truthful - he was good with concealing charms. Very good. The practise he'd needed had paid off, and he could transfigure his face into whatever shape he wanted, as well as making bruises and cuts go away. Unfortunately, strong wizards like Snape or Dumbledore could still destroy the image.  
  
Ron had left him alone after Dean left, but Harry knew he'd seek Harry out soon enough. People like that just couldn't get enough. It was a drug that wasn't a drug. . .rather like the trail of blood weaving down Harry's stomach where he had just carved a huge lightning bolt into his chest.  
  
Maybe he was going mad. . . 


	13. Poetic Interlude 2 : The Storm

As clear as mud in a tropical storm,  
  
Every new day brings a brand new dawn,  
  
And after the tempest the calm will come,  
  
Stroke my hand and lead me home.  
  
Kiss my forehead as I fall asleep,  
  
Stroke my cheek when I start to weep;  
  
At the thought of a madness that's dragged me down,  
  
In seas of mud, to wail and kick and scream, and finally,  
  
Drown.  
  
  
  
The mud runs deep,  
  
And home is far,  
  
Wanting sleep,  
  
To awaken is hard.  
  
I must go on,  
  
I must find home,  
  
But sleep is strong,  
  
I can't carry on.  
  
  
  
It's stupid, I feel,  
  
To be so weak.  
  
While my body is moving, my mind's asleep,  
  
In the realm of nightmares, I start to scream;  
  
But when people stare, it's only a dream.  
  
There's hell flames and heaven,  
  
Nought forgives my sin,  
  
For I can't tell the difference; which one am I in?  
  
  
  
The madness takes over,  
  
I'm too far from home;  
  
Mud's closing over me,  
  
I'm alone and alone.  
  
Can't even breathe now,  
  
From the scene in my head,  
  
Showing me all alone;  
  
Alone, confused, and then dead. 


	14. Another fight, and sympathy

Harry began to regret giving Ron a free reign over his body; while all pain was good pain, he much preferred the sting of a knife or razor to the dull impact of a fist. His mental state took a downturn as well. After the carving of the lightning bolt, something changed. He didn't sleep at all, spending nights tracing the ridges of his scars with long pale fingers, and using concealing charms in the morning to hide the deep shadows underneath his eyes.  
  
When he didn't sleep, he dreamt of hope; of parents, of people who loved it. And his only consolation, when even the snores of the boys around him sounded cold and harsh, was that there must be something left in him alive if he could dare to hope. He just couldn't find the spark of life.  
  
And then it all changed.  
  
***************************************************  
  
"Hey, Potter!"  
  
Harry didn't turn, just kept walking, until two rough hands grabbed his skinny shoulders.  
  
"What do you want, Weasley?"  
  
The rest of the school were having problems adjusting to the strange new relationship between Harry and Ron, and already people were beginning to stare.  
  
"Carry my bag"  
  
"No!" said Harry sharply. "That wasn't in the agreement!"  
  
Hissing fires of whispers broke out throughout the corridor, people talking in hushed voices about what could possibly be the 'agreement'. Harry ignored them, and kept walking towards the Potions room. He felt a huge weight suddenly descend onto his shoulders and winced, dropping Ron's bag to the floor. Then he kept walking. He walked right through the door before Ron caught up with him.  
  
"Potter! What was that for?"  
  
Harry suddenly felt very tired, and slightly dizzy. If he half-closed his eyes it felt like he was floating. Then he was brought back to earth by a fist in his face which made him stagger back, eyes watering. And then, from somewhere, he gained some reserve of strength which enabled him to slap Ron hard around the face. He knew it was fruitless; Ron was bigger and stronger, and had him pinned down. He felt another blow to his face, and then a welcome tone.  
  
"Mister Weasley, fighting in the potions room?"  
  
Ron's red face turned the colour of old porridge, the only pink left the mark on his cheek from Harry's hand.  
  
"Unfortunately, the happy task of setting Gryffindor into negative points doesn't lie with me, as you have not damaged anything. However you will both report to professor McGonagall immediately after the lesson."  
  
Harry nodded, and turned to go back to his seat, missing the look of concern that flashed over Snape's face.  
  
**********************************  
  
Snape couldn't concentrate on his lesson; his mind was whirling with the implications of what he had seen. Harry had been hit hard but his face showed no sign of bruising or swelling, therefore he must have concealing charms on. But he had been eating; what would he be hiding?  
  
You know perfectly well what he would be hiding, Severus  
  
Unbidden, images of Harry's arms, dripping with blood, flashed into Snape's mind.  
  
Don't want to see. Too scared  
  
But that was why Harry's health had got to this stage. Because people were too scared to think about the imperfect life of the Perfect Boy.  
  
He was hiding. His hair had grown and hung over his eyes, slightly lank and greasy. Now he stood quietly behind his bench, making the potion well to avoid rebuke from the teacher, but not perfectly so he didn't attract too much attention. He was inconspicuous with the grace of one who has been practising it for years.  
  
Snape suddenly became aware that he was staring at Harry, and mentally kicked himself. Harry had also noticed, because he flushed, and gazed firmly into his cauldron. And then he paled, and drew back, his mouth open in a silent gasp. Snape swept forwards and looked in over Harry's shoulder. The potion, which had previously been blue, was now like a mirror, smooth and shiny. In the mirror, leering at Harry, was a boy with dark hair, green eyes and a lightning-bolt scar. That was the only resemblance to Harry though; the mirror-Harry was grossly fat, with clammy pink skin.  
  
Snape didn't have time to reflect on this, as Harry gasped and stumbled backwards. Snape looked down at him, and hoped Harry could see the concerned look in his eyes, hidden to the rest of the class by his curtain of black hair.  
  
"Get up, Potter" he ordered curtly, and moved to the front of the class. It was nearly the end of the lesson now. Harry was visibly shaking.  
  
"Everyone bottle your pathetically inadequate potions, and then you may leave. Homework is a 3 foot scroll on why precautions must be taken in the making of the Repasso* potion."  
  
Amid the groans and grumbles he watched Harry, who was packing his bags away silently. He was still trembling.  
  
"Potter, stay behind."  
  
Harry didn't look surprised; his face was expressionless. Though Snape had a strong feeling the boy was biting his lip to prevent himself from crying. Suddenly he felt a feeling of pity stir in him. The rest of the class disappeared quickly, and he beckoned Harry forwards to his desk.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
Shit! Where did that come from?  
  
"Fine, thank you sir."  
  
His voice was totally devoid of emotion, and his eyes were dull. Again, Snape felt like Harry had just drawn a curtain around himself.  
  
"Why did Weasley attack you?"  
  
"We were just playing, sir."  
  
Snape shook his head, partially at the pathetic lie and partly at the monotone in which it was delivered.  
  
"Harry, I'm worried about you"  
  
Yeah, and I'm only opening my mouth to embarrass myself even further muttered his conscience. Snape ignored it.  
  
"I'm not convinced you are better at all. Hiding is not going to help you in the long term, because you may get so well hidden that you are lost forever."  
  
"And what if that's what I want?"  
  
Harry's eyes had flashed briefly, a small spark of light, but he quickly flushed at his admittance. Then, seeming to accept defeat, his shoulders slumped.  
  
"Why didn't you come and talk to me, Harry? I would have helped you - or tried."  
  
"I. . .I didn't want to be a nuisance. . ."  
  
Snape shook his head and gently guided Harry into a chair. He decided his conscience must have taken him over for him to be being so nice. Some Slytherins, normally first year girls, saw this side of him.  
  
"You are wearing concealing charms" he asked rhetorically. Harry loked slightly surprised.  
  
"Did they slip?"  
  
"No, I'm Head of Slytherin. I'm used to looking past the first few layers."  
  
Harry smiled wryly.  
  
"I hope you're not going to ask me to remove them, professor."  
  
"I'm afraid I am. I need to see."  
  
Harry shook his head, face hardening.  
  
"I don't want that."  
  
"I know you don't, Harry. But I have to know."  
  
"If it's bad you'll just send me back to the hospital."  
  
It was a question and a statement, delivered with almost concealed nervousness.  
  
"Only if it's bad. If you trust me, I will not betray that. I will not tell Dumbledore."  
  
Even as the words left his mouth, Snape knew how much trouble he could get into. From the surprised look on Harry's face, so did he. Apprehensive, the boy waved the wand at himself, and the features merged into a much finer face. However he was not as desperately skeletal as he had been before.  
  
"You lost weight" said Snape, trying to keep the accusing tone out of his voice.  
  
"I know" whispered Harry. He felt very vulnerable without the glamour charm.  
  
"You haven't been sleeping, either, have you?"  
  
Harry shook his head, which was still facing down.  
  
"Would you like something to eat or drink?"  
  
Another shake of the head. Snape summoned a glass of water anyway, and pressed it into Harry's hand.  
  
"Look, Harry. I saw in the potion. You are not fat. I don't know how I can persuade you, but tell me. . .what do you see when you look in the mirror?"  
  
Harry was silent for a moment, and Snape wondered if he was going to respond. Then he murmered in a slightly choked voice,  
  
"I see that boy. . .except a bit skinnier. Not much. I was so scared. . .I look like him, don't I?"  
  
Snape shook his head.  
  
"Not at all. The scar and the eyes are the only resemblance. You look like him, only minus about 5 stone."  
  
Harry took a deep shuddering breath and with a jolt Snape realised that he was crying, trying to act as though he wasn't.  
  
"You are so thin, Harry. You look like you're going to break. Don't break."  
  
Harry gave an unmistakable sob.  
  
"I'm. . .I'm so confused, be-because I believe you, b-but I see him everyday in the mirror, and I don't know w-what they all s-see. . ."  
  
Harry's breathing became more and more erratic, his stuttering more pronounced, until finally he simply whimpered quietly and rested his head in his hands, frail body heaving with sobs that seemed so much too big for him. So much pain in such a small vessel, reflected Snape. It really wasn't surprising he was breaking.  
  
"Harry. . ."  
  
Harry didn't reply, just cried as though his heart was breaking, his arms wrapped around his knees as though he could physically hold the grief in.  
  
"Harry, I'm sorry, I. . ."  
  
Harry was trying to hold his sobs in now, and Snape worried that the boy was going to suffocate himself. He felt totally useless. Wondering if Harry would flinch away, he put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed gently. To his total amazement, Harry actually leaned into the touch, and he moved in front of the chair.  
  
"It's ok, Harry. You're going to be alright. . ."  
  
Harry latched onto the front of his robes, and Snape was rendered totally speechless. From sheer habit he almost deducted 500 points from Gryffindor. Then he regained his senses and pulled Harry gently forward so his head was resting on Snape's chest, and then wrapped his arms around the boy's thin back.  
  
"It's ok now Harry. It's going to be alright." He murmered.  
  
Maybe it would turn out to be true.  
  
*Repasso means something like 'I suffer again', eg it is the worst fear of the person who looks in the potion, a bit like a Boggart. 


	15. Eating again

"It's time for dinner."  
  
Harry shivered slightly, and looked up.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Don't want to. . ."  
  
Snape ran a hand through the black hair, alarmed to find several strands coming out in his fingers.  
  
"Please? Just eat a little."  
  
Harry was pale, looking so nauseated at the mere thought of food that he didn't even notice Snape had asked nicely.  
  
"I really don't want to" he mumbled, looking piteous. "Please don't make me."  
  
"Harry, you're going to get really ill. . ."  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
"I'm fine." He muttered.  
  
Snape shook his head, this time, and showed Harry the hair he held in his hand.  
  
"Harry, you look dreadful. Your hair is falling out, your skin is turning yellow, your bones are sticking out. You look like a Dementor!"  
  
Harry stared at him for a few moments, tears welling up in dull eyes, giving a false impression of a sparkle. With a sigh, Snape pulled Harry into his arms again.  
  
"Don't tell me you really enjoy feeling like this, hmm?" he murmered, hating the feel of Harry's ribs sticking into him. "Don't tell me you like the feel of your stomach churning because the acids in it have nowhere to go? Don't tell me you like the taste of vomit in your mouth after every meal? Don't tell me. . ."  
  
"Enough!" exclaimed harry, tears rolling down his cheeks. His voice softened.  
  
"Enough. Stop it, please, stop it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it."  
  
He curled up into a ball, but Snape refused to let him go.  
  
"I know you do, Harry. It's addictive. You need to understand. You need to see what it's doing to you."  
  
"But I don't want to. I just want to stay ignorant."  
  
"Do you? Do you want to go through life being too scared to understand, too scared to look for answers? Do you want to run and hide for ever?"  
  
"No" said harry, his eyes meeting Snape's truthfully. "I want to disappear."  
  
*******************************************  
  
THE END.  
  
***********************************************  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Hahaha no, not really.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Snape looked at Harry, who was gazing at the wall.  
  
"I'm going to call Albus."  
  
Harry tensed, but relaxed as Snape finished his sentence.  
  
"You can stay here for the time being. . .if you would like to. I will look after you. But I mean I WILL look after you, and if I have to force you to eat then so be it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because even if you can't see it, you still have some hope left in your life. You are far from stupid; you will be able to get a good job, and make something of your life. I refuse to sit back and watch you destroy your body when there are so many positive paths you can take."  
  
Harry nodded silently, and then flinched again at Snape's next words.  
  
"And speaking of destroying your body, let me see your arms."  
  
He shook his head and turned away, knowing it was in vain. Snape gently but forcefully rolled up his sleeves and inspected the damage. He 'hmm'ed and ran a long finger over a few of them.  
  
"If I heal them, will you promise not to do it again?"  
  
Harry looked at Snape.  
  
"I'll try."  
  
"Harry, anyone can try. You have to believe. You have to say 'I will', and mean it."  
  
"But. . .I don't think I want to. . ."  
  
Snape pulled Harry close to him, at the same time wondering if he was under the Imperius. He had never been this nice to anyone. . .  
  
"I know you don't. Well actually, I can't say I fully understand."  
  
Harry looked curiously at him, and Snape sighed.  
  
"The Dark Mark. It felt. . .like a curse and a blessing all at once. Some days it felt like my only friend; my contact with people who at the time seemed to care about me. Other days, it felt like the weight of the world on my arm. So, in some way I do understand."  
  
Harry nodded silently. He was ghostly pale, and Snape wondered if he'd heard a word that had been said.  
  
"Harry, do you feel alright?"  
  
Harry looked up with glazed eyes, and his head lolled back onto Snape's shoulder.  
  
"I. . .I don't feel very well."  
  
Snape looked wide-eyed at the trembling, clammy boy.  
  
"Harry! Look at me!" He tried to quell the rising panic in his voice, unsuccessfully. Harry's eyes grew wide, and he suddenly shrank away from Snape.  
  
"No, uncle, please! No! NO! Stop it, please stop, it hurts so much, please!"  
  
He winced, several times, flinching further away from Snape each time. Then, suddenly he went quiet, and very stiff. Hissing sounds began to come out of his mouth, and his shoulders twitched with some sort of strain. And then he was shivering slightly, knees hunched up, and then. . .Snape shifted so he could see. Harry was hunched up, eyes still closed, and seemed to be drawing something on his arms. He began to tremble even more violently, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and then finally let out an ear-splitting shriek and fell limp to the floor. Snape joined him in a second, frantically shaking Harry and brushing his hair back. It was obviously a flashback of some sort. . .  
  
Harry almost gave him a heart attack by suddenly staring up at him with bright green orbs. The circles under his eyes stood out proudly on the chalky skin, and Snape felt the insane urge to hug the boy and never let go. He settled for silently picking him up and taking him into Snape's bedroom. He would be damned if he let the boy sleep alone tonight. Murmuring absently to the boy, he kicked off his shoes and outer robe, and the boy's, and lay next to him. Harry lay tense for a moment, obviously not wanting to seem awake.  
  
"It's ok, Harry. I'm not going to ask you any questions. I just want you to relax, alright?"  
  
Harry shook his head, and without warning rolled over and threw up on the floor. Shivering, whether with fear of what Snape would do to him or illness, he curled up into a foetal position facing away from Snape. The potions master remained unfazed, and did a quick cleaning spell, then he gently but insistently tugged at Harry's shoulders until he turned over.  
  
The boy seemed to be full of surprises. Snape had expected to have to force- feed him a relaxing potion, but he moved straight away close to Snape, burying his mop of unruly curls in the front of the wizard's robes as though to hide. Absently Snape began murmuring gently under his breath to Harry. He didn't know what he was saying, but it obviously had a good effect as Harry slowly relaxed, and leaned further into Snape's arms. Snape didn't know who fell asleep first.  
  
**************************************  
  
A fly on the wall would have been surprised to see the happy expression on Dumbledore's face to find his star student in bed with an ex-Death Eater old enough to be his father. But the blue eyes were twinkling and there was the unmistakable twitch of his lips underneath the bushy beard as he surveyed the scene in front of him. They both looked peaceful and contented and Dumbledore had no intention of waking either of them, but it was a nice sight to behold, even if Harry had become too skinny again. Like so many times before, Dumbledore had complete faith in his Potions Master to sort Harry out.  
  
**************************************  
  
Snape stirred slightly, and almost had a heart attack when he felt a warm body pressed up against him. The person must have felt him stiffen, for it gave out a soft mewling noise and moved closer. Oh, of course. Harry. Snape allowed himself to relax, but it was too late. Harry opened an eye and looked at Snape.  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
It was a stupid question, and hardly worthy of an answer, but Harry gave a pathetic smile.  
  
"Fine thanks."  
  
Touché, thought Snape. A very suitable answer for the question. They lay in silence for a few moments, before Harry spoke again.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
For what? Sharing his bed, offering his help?  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
Further silence; but it didn't feel oppressive or awkward. Just. . .quiet. Snape wasn't sure that he wanted Harry to be thinking too deeply. He hadn't eaten yet.  
  
"I'm starving" he said in a would-be casual voice. "Can I get you anything?"  
  
It was a test and they both knew it. Snape didn't like breakfast; he found it a boring meal, and he was never hungry in the morning anyway. But he would eat a rotting Hippogriff if it would tempt Harry.  
  
"No. I mean, no thanks." Harry caught sight of Snape's pointed expression. "A glass of water? And a slice of toast." Was delivered in a more resigned tone. Snape wasn't convinced; it was very little, especially for such a thin boy. But at least it would mean there was some food in his stomach. He summoned a house-elf to get breakfast and then went to floo Albus. However an image of the Headmaster appeared instead of his face, smiled beatifically, and said,  
  
"I came in earlier and saw you and Harry. I'm glad he seems to be trusting you. Please look after him for the rest of the week, I believe your company does him good. I have a meeting with Fudge in London, so I won't be available today. Thank you for calling, and have a nice day."  
  
And then with a wink and a smile the magical mirror image of Dumbledore disappeared with a pop. Snape walked through and saw Harry looking at the slice of toast on the plate. He couldn't see the boy's face underneath the mass of black curls.  
  
"Come on, eat up." he tried cheerfully. No response. He moved over to harry, and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry's shoulders gave a quickly suppressed shudder, and Snape sank to his knees next to the chair, having no idea about how to handle this. On one hand, he was all in favour of physically comforting the boy. On the other hand, he would not get fooled into forgetting about the boy's food.  
  
"Harry. You need to eat this. Just one little slice of toast, hmm? It's only a tiny bit."  
  
Harry shook his head mutely, and a tear splashed onto the toast.  
  
"Harry" said Snape sharpening his tone a little. Harry winced, but didn't pull back as Snape lifted the toast towards Harry's mouth. Unwillingly he opened up and took a bite of toast, chewing it and swallowing. It was a long and arduous process, but eventually the toast and water was gone. Sniffling miserably, Harry stood up, and suddenly filled with anger, Snape pulled him back down again, grabbed Harry's chin so their eyes were locked, and spoke dangerously.  
  
"I will NOT tolerate you making yourself sick in my rooms. I have not spent the last twenty minutes virtually force-feeding you for you to just vomit it up again, do you understand? I am not prepared to stand for this sort of behaviour. If you want to get better, you're just going to have to try a bit yourself."  
  
Shaken, Harry nodded tremulously, trying to hide his tears. Snape sighed, hating himself for being so harsh, but knowing that he had to shock Harry a bit, and opened his arms to the boy. Harry, obviously still weak, buried his head in Snape's robes and began to cry in earnest. Snape couldn't hear exactly what he was saying, but there was some talk of terror, and hurting. . .he blanked out most of it, and tried to concentrate on projecting feelings of warmth to the boy.  
  
It must have worked, because Harry eventually stopped shaking, and lay still and easy in Snape's arms.  
  
  
  
  
  
*** Oh dear, I've ended this chapter exactly the same way as the last one! To the reviewer who told me it's 'death warmed over', it's not, it's 'death warmed up' in England. I'm English, and Harry Potter and JK Rowling are English therefore I have no intention of using American language/grammar. But thank you for the reviews, everyone! *** 


	16. Running there and back again END

Harry awoke some time later to find Snape gone. He wondered why he had woken up, and then heard a banging on the door. Realising it would not look good for him to be seen coming out of Snape's chambers, he stayed where he was, but hastily moved when he heard McGonagall's voice.  
  
"Severus Snape if you've hurt Potter believe me you will pay for it!"  
  
Her voice became steadily more shrill. Harry couldn't remember her ever being so flustered.  
  
"Remus Lupin is in Dumbledore's office and he's going nigh on insane! I demand that you release Mr Potter this instant, or I'll blast down your damn. . .Oh. Hello Harry. How are you?"  
  
Her voice softened at the end, and she grasped his arm and dragged him out of the portrait hole, all the while muttering under her breath about ridiculous ideas of half-witted headmasters. Harry tried not to shake. He suddenly felt ill at the prospect of seeing Lupin.  
  
McGonagall lead him up several flights of stairs at top speed; Harry wondered bitterly whether any of them had noticed that he had lost weight. He felt like crap. He didn't have time to think now; how had they arrived so quickly? He didn't even hear the password as the gargoyle sprang open with a snarl, just felt numbness, and an overwhelming desire to run away forever.  
  
Run away. . .  
  
Lupin looked haggard and worn when Harry entered, and immediately he felt awful. Then the werewolf's eyes hardened and he stood up suddenly, pushing Harry against the wall. Unbidden, images of Vernon sprung to his mind, like last night. . .no, he would not crumble. He would not panic.  
  
He forced himself to take deep breaths, and look Lupin in the eye. Perhaps not such a good idea. He really was furious.  
  
"Albus, perhaps I could have a few moments alone with Harry? There is a free classroom down the corridor."  
  
Dumbledore nodded cheerfully and held the door open. Lupin grabbed Harry hard by the arm and dragged him down the stair, into the classroom, and pushed the now thoroughly cowed boy into a chair.  
  
"Do you have any idea. . .how angry. . .how disappointed we are? You decided to give up the life given to you by your parents? You thought that you. . ."  
  
He was cut off as Harry sent him flying back into the wall. Tears welled up in the boy's eyes as he wished he didn't have this power; wished he could be normal. He let his hand remain, and let the tears fall. Suddenly it all sunk in, how much he had lost and how much he had given away. How he should have died when Voldemort did; how he should have allowed fate to run it's course.  
  
"There's nothing left for me here, now." he whispered, and moved forwards to Lupin. "Tell Sirius I love him. Thank you, for everything. Tell Severus, and Dean and Seamus, and McGonagall, and Dumbledore, how sorry I am. This is life, Remus. This is the end."  
  
He touched Lupin's face almost reverently, drinking in the confusion and worry in the werewolf's eyes.  
  
"So many times. . .Voldemort. . .heart attacks. . .I should have just given in when I had the chance. Goodbye, Professor."  
  
Harry cast one final glance at Lupin before apparating out of the room.  
  
Almost instantaneously Snape burst in, black hair flying around his face. He took in the scene, released Lupin, and then grabbed him by the throat.  
  
"Where. Is. Harry?" he enunciated dangerously.  
  
"Apparated. I. . .he. . .Severus!"  
  
Then Dumbledore burst in, and looked around.  
  
"Harry apparated, didn't he? The wards are down again. Not that it really matters."  
  
Lupin nodded, looking terrified, and Dumbledore's eyes lost their twinkle.  
  
"Organise a search around the school and grounds. It is imperative that we find him."  
  
Snape nodded curtly and left, leaving Lupin and Dumbledore alone in the room.  
  
"I think he's going to kill himself" whispered Lupin, and Dumbledore looked at him sternly.  
  
"Now is not the time for self recriminations. We must find Harry first."  
  
Lupin nodded wearily, and the two men both left the room.  
  
*************************************  
  
Harry was somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. He didn't know where; he had just tried to escape as quickly as possible from the stifling accusations of Lupin. It was all true; all so true. But now he came to think of it, he didn't really want to die. He just felt confused. He was crying, he supposed, because he could feel something cold running down his cheek. But he couldn't feel anything. For some reason he wanted Snape; wanted the contact, wanted the hidden warmth that lay within the folds of the black robes. But he was all alone. Hadn't he wanted this once?  
  
Rustling footsteps came close but he didn't move until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard the deep voice of Firenze.  
  
"What are you doing, harry Potter? Are you sad?"  
  
Harry tried to smile, tried to hold up the pretence, but it was all too much. The energy drained out of his body, and he slumped backwards, allowing his eyes to roll up into his head, hearing the gasp from the centaur.  
  
"Severus. . .I want Severus. . ."  
  
His body fell to uncontrollable sobs, and he tried to huddle in on himself, avoiding the uncertain hands of Firenze. Between breaths he managed to gasp out "Snape. . .professor Snape. . .please, Severus. . ."  
  
He didn't feel the strong arms lift him and head off at a run towards the school; didn't feel the wind whipping his hair. He suddenly felt like a 5 year old who had scraped their knee and was bawling for his mother, but the thought didn't stop him crying. Didn't he deserve to regress if he wanted to? Still Firenze ran, and still Harry sobbed.  
  
********************************************  
  
Snape had cancelled his lessons for the day, at the same time hating himself for actually caring. But the humiliation of caring was fading under his increasing worry for Harry. Why in nine hells had Minerva taken him away? Were they all so stupid?  
  
The search for Harry in school grounds was unfruitful, and as far as anyone knew Harry could be in China. There was little they could do. The only person powerful enough to do a tracking spell was Harry. Which was not too helpful.  
  
Snape was jerked from his thoughts by a strange sound outside his door and shouting.  
  
"He doesn't want to go in there!" shrilled McGonagall. A bass voice which he didn't recognise calmly replied that he had been screaming to see Severus for the last 20 minutes. Snape's heart seemed to stop for a moment before he composed his face and wrenched the door open, raising an eyebrow. However any witty remark he might have been planning dried on his lips when he saw Harry. The boy was curled piteously into a ball, in the arms of a centaur no less, with Dumbledore and McGonagall trying to pry Harry away. There was silence for a moment as they all noticed Snape, and then Harry pulled away from Firenze and latched onto Snape's robes, just like a child.  
  
He is a child said Snape's conscience, and it forced his arms around Harry. Still underweight, it was easy to carry him.  
  
"Harry has come here. He needs rest and time alone. I would thank you not to disturb him." Said Snape icily, looking pointedly at McGonagall, and then he swept into his chambers, slamming the door behind him after a grateful look at the centaur. Cradling Harry to him, he sat down on the sofa with Harry on his lap, still sobbing.  
  
"Harry, it's alright." Merlin, how many time have you said that today, Severus?  
  
"How did the hope, the light of the wizarding world, all come to this?" asked Harry, finding a lull between his hysterical sobs. Unable to find words, Snape remained silent, and Harry began to cry again.  
  
"Do you want to talk?"  
  
Shake of the head - negative.  
  
"Do you want a drink?" no sense in offering him food  
  
Again, negative.  
  
"Is there anything I can do to help?"  
  
"Be" whispered Harry, and if Snape didn't have such good hearing he would have been sure he'd imagined it. Unconsciously he began stroking Harry's head, almost smiling as the boy visibly relaxed under his hands.  
  
"Do you trust me, Harry?"  
  
"Mm hmm" replied his young charge sleepily.  
  
Snape's heart felt like it was swelling. It was an odd feeling.  
  
"Trust you with my life" murmered Harry. "That's why I came back."  
  
They sat in silence for a few moments before Snape ceased his stroking. Harry began to stir unhappily, and he resumed it, hating the boy's relatives for doing this to him; forcing this loneliness onto him that made him need contact so much.  
  
"Do you want me to kill the Dursleys?"  
  
He knew from the way the boy tensed that he had gone too far, delved into matters that should have been forgotten. But then he began rubbing Harry's shoulder-blades, and he relaxed, and finally spoke.  
  
"No. I don't think so. But. . .don't make me go back, please."  
  
Snape snorted.  
  
"Go back there? No chance, Harry. There is no way I will allow you to return to those. . .those. . ."  
  
Harry chuckled slightly, having run out of tears.  
  
"Can I have some Dreamless Sleep potion?"  
  
"I'll have to get up."  
  
"Accio Dreamless Sleep potion."  
  
Snape smiled at the boy's ability and uncorked the bottle, letting Harry drink from it.  
  
"I'm glad I came back" whispered Harry, and he fell asleep. Snape pushed an errant lock of hair out of the way and smiled at the sleeping boy.  
  
"Me too, Harry."  
  
********************************************  
  
The next few months were almost as hard for Snape as they were for Harry. At first he found it hard to allow the boy to trust him, on the basis of all the terrible crimes he had committed as a Death Eater. But by and by they both adapted and adjusted to one another. When Harry had decided to move back to his dormitory, he had visited Snape every night. But the yearning sadness which he had once felt muted, and eventually faded, without Harry even having known it had gone.  
  
Happiness had arrived.  
  
**********************************************  
  
  
  
THE END. TO BE CONTINUED IN A SEQUEL, COMING SOON.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
^^ YES, I DO know that you cannot apparate on Hogwarts grounds. In JK's universe Harry and Snape will probably never stand each other, and Harry won't be suicidal. The apparition thing is just to give an idea of his power. 


End file.
